


Some Kind We Never Forget

by throsartae



Series: Our Lives to Make [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Balin, Alpha Bifur, Alpha Bombur, Alpha Dwalin, Alpha Elrond, Alpha Fíli, Alpha Gloin, Alpha Kíli, Alpha Oin, Alpha Sam, Alpha Thorin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Fluff, Just no Betas in this Fic, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Bilbo, Omega Bofur, Omega Frodo, Omega Legolas, Omega Merry, Omega Nori, Omega Ori - Freeform, Omega Pippin, Omega Thranduil, Overprotective Dwarves, Overprotective Thorin, graphic smut, omega dori, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throsartae/pseuds/throsartae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins had met Thorin Oakenshild long before Gandalf's meeting.  Several years ago, Thorin had visited the Shire as a traveling blacksmith.  When Bilbo enlisted his help, a friendship was built.  It grew stronger as the months passed.  Due to extenuating circumstances, Thorin helped Bilbo through his heat, though Bilbo made it clear that he wasn't expecting anything more than that.  Eventually Thorin returned back home, leaving more than just fond memories for Bilbo.</p><p>Now Bilbo was a single Omega parent of four little fauntlings, and he couldn't have been any more content with his life.  Sure, raising four little rambunctious sons was a lot of work when you were by yourself, but Bilbo was managing just fine, thank you.  That was going to change when Gandalf arrived, bringing with him adventures, dwarves, and Thorin Oakenshield.</p><p>Not only did Bilbo have to decide how to tell Thorin that he was the father of four boys, but he also had to decide whether an adventure was worth the risk to his and his sons' lives.  His sons deserved to know their father, and Thorin deserved to know his sons, but was it worth the uncertainty that none of them may survive this dangerous adventure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo lives a perfectly happy life with his four sons, but that might all change with the arrival of Gandalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first fic published here at AO3 and my first foray into Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. As noted in the tags, this is an A/O fic (I have nothing against Betas, I am just not including them in this universe.) There will be mpreg, knotting, and just about everything else that is associated with A/O universes. If that is not your cup of tea, don't say I didn't warn you. 
> 
> I've tried to stay as close to Tolkien's timeline as possible, but I've tweaked more than a few things to make my story work. Since it is a reimagining of the Hobbit films, just with four added fauntlings added to the Company, there may be quite a bit that you will recognize. I apologize and will try to keep that to a minimum. Not everything will be the same since things will most likely occur differently with four new characters added as well as Alpha/Omega Dynamics.
> 
> This will be mostly movie-verse, with a few things changed (such as no Tauriel.) As I've said, this is my first fic published here, so if there is anything that I have missed, please don't hesitate to tell me. Constructive criticism is welcome, flames will be ignored.
> 
> This has not been beta'ed. I've picked through it as much a I can, but I find that it's difficult to correct my own work. I think I've caught most of the mistakes, but if you find any, please tell me so that I can fix them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognized characters, places, events, etc. That privilege belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson.

   

_April 26, 2941 of the Third Age_

 

     The grease popped and sizzled as Bilbo placed generous slices of bacon in the pan.  Soon the mouth-watering aroma of cooking meat joined in with the rest of the delicious scents wafting through Bag End.  Scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese, hearty pancakes dripping with melted butter and maple syrup, spicy sausage links and fried hash browns.  All a staple on every respectable hobbit's kitchen table at breakfast.  And of course, Bilbo Baggins was a respectable hobbit, despite what that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had to say about it.  Ensuring that the pan was safe to leave, even for a brief moment, Bilbo pulled plates from the cupboard and began setting the table, a silent countdown going through his mind.

     _Five...four...three...two...one_ , he counted to himself.  His grin grew, becoming both mischievous and fond, as he heard the sound of tiny voices exclaiming, thumps, and tiny feet running towards the kitchen.  All at once four little bodies came careening through the doorway, pushing at each other and hissing at each other when a toe was stepped on or a side was hit with a sharp elbow.  The sight filled Bilbo with such affection and love that it took his breath away.  Of all the things he had been gifted with, undeserved or not, his boys, his precious little sons, were, above all else, the greatest he had ever received.

     "Good morning, boys," he cheerfully greeted them, placing a kiss atop each curly head.  "Did you sleep well?"

     "Good morning, Mama!" they chorused.

     "We slept very well, Mama," Merry said, helping Pippin into his chair before climbing into his own.

     "Speak for yourself," Sam grumbled, a grumpy look on his young face that made Bilbo want to laugh.  "Someone," here Sam gave Pippin a pointed glare, "kept kicking me in their sleep.  And someone else," another pointed glare, this time aimed at Merry, "kept stealing all of the blankets."

     Bilbo noticed how there were no accusations thrown at Frodo.  Although Sam loved his brothers dearly and was really quite protective of them despite his complaints, he seemed to treat Frodo a little differently from how he treated Merry and Pippin.  Perhaps it was because Frodo was the youngest of the litter whereas Sam was the oldest.

     "I'm sorry, my dear Sam.  Perhaps it's time we turn the spare room into another bedroom," Bilbo suggested, though he knew what the response would be.  "You and Frodo can share that room while Merry and Pippin can keep this one."

     Unsurprisingly, Sam shook his head.  "It's okay, Mama.  I have to be there to make sure Merry, Pippin, and Frodo are safe.  Besides," he added in a whisper when Bilbo was pushing his chair closer to the table, "I like being close to you.  The spare room is too far away."

     Smiling and ruffling Sam's gold-toned hair, Bilbo helped his fauntlings dish out their food.  While Bag End had more than enough room to convert another bedroom, the boys insisted on sharing a room.  They were still at that age where it was difficult to be separated from each other for too long.  Being from the same litter meant that there was a unique bond between them that encouraged them to be close.  However, once they hit puberty Bilbo would have to separate them.  Sam was an alpha.  Merry, Pippin, and Frodo were omegas.  Although Sam would be unaffected by his brothers' heats when they came of age, it was still an embarrassing thing to go through for the first time.  All four would have to be separated.  Just the thought of that made Bilbo feel exhausted.  How he was going to handle a rutting alpha and three heating omegas by himself, he did not know.  He would cross that bridge when he came to it, he supposed.

     Pushing that thought from his mind, Bilbo allowed his sons' happy chatter to wash over him.  His anxiousness slowly dissipated until all that was left was contentment.  And fond exasperation as Merry took to throwing pieces of scrambled egg across the table for Pippin to catch in his mouth, who caught most of them with stunning precision.

     After Bilbo and his fauntlings had eaten all they could, Sam headed towards his little garden that was just outside the kitchen and Merry and Pippin took off towards their favorite tree just behind Bag End.  That left Bilbo and Frodo to clean up the mess left behind.  They shared fond head shakes.

     Once that task was finished, Bilbo studied his youngest son.  Looking so different from his brothers, yet so much like his sire, Frodo reminded Bilbo so much of himself in his younger days.  Although calmer than Bilbo had been, Frodo loved stories of faraway lands and exciting adventures.  Where Sam could be found tending his garden and Merry and Pippin could be found terrorizing the countryside, Frodo could always be found ensconced in his grandfather's arm chair, face buried in one of Bilbo's books.  Both he and Sam had developed the same fascination with elves that Bilbo had (still had, even.)

     The thought of the look on their sire's face if he ever discovered his sons' love of all things elven brought both a feeling of vindictive amusement and a pang of pained longing.  Sighing and admonishing himself for his foolishness, Bilbo pushed all thoughts of his sons' sire to the recesses of his mind.

     "Well, my dear Frodo, what shall we do now?" he asked, gazing down at his fauntling with a soft smile.

     As Frodo raised his arms up to be held, Bilbo grieved for the day when his sons would be too heavy to pick up.  For now, he would cherish being able to hold Frodo close.  He followed Frodo's pointed finger to the study, where he allowed him to pick out a book.

     "Let's read this outside, shall we?" Bilbo suggested, to which Frodo nodded enthusiastically.  "The fresh air will do us some good."

 ~~~~~

     Keeping an eye on Merry and Pippin, who were now pestering Sam, while listening to Frodo attempt to read the book aloud, Bilbo was so startled to see that they had a visitor that he jumped.  Their visitor looked vaguely familiar.  He wore flowing grey robes and a tall pointed hat.  His staff was nearly as tall as he was and his grey beard hung almost to his waist.

    Frodo had fallen silent, book forgotten as he looked between Bilbo and the old man with curiosity.  Suddenly remembering his manners (he was a Baggins, after all,) Bilbo greeted their visitor with a, "Good morning!"

     "What do you mean?" the man asked, surprising Bilbo.  "Do you wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?  Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning?  Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

     Later blaming his pure bafflement for his delayed response, Bilbo finally replied, "All of them at once, I suppose."  He paused, racking his brain for why this strange man seemed to be somewhat familiar.  "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

     "You know my name, although you don't know that I belong to it.  I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means...me."

     Ah!  Now Bilbo remembered!  "Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks!  Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve."  He chuckled with fondness at those memories.  A glance to his left reminded Bilbo that Frodo was still there and had just witnessed an appalling lapse in propriety.  Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Bilbo muttered, "Er...forgive me.  Boys!  Come here!"

     Perhaps hearing some sort of desperation in his voice, his fauntlings came running at once.  Although he attempted to make them as presentable as possible (he despaired over the dirt underneath Sam's nails and the dark smudges on Merry and Pippin's cheeks that wouldn't disappear no matter how hard he rubbed,) Gandalf would just have to be satisfied.  "Gandalf, these are my sons Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.  Boys, this is Mister Gandalf."

     "Good morning, Mister Gandalf!" all four chorused.  Bilbo could not be sure, but he thought Gandalf's eye had twitched.

     "Congratulations are in order, then," Gandalf said, surprise coloring his voice.  "I did not know you had mated."

     "Ah, no...actually, I, uh, am not mated.  It's complicated."  Bilbo's cheeks warmed with embarrassment, though he was anything but ashamed of being a mateless omega with four fauntlings.  He felt he had done quite an excellent job so far of raising his sons by himself, he just wished the other hobbits would see it, too, and stop gossiping.  Taking a fortifying breath, he asked, "Can I help you, Mister Gandalf?"

     Gandalf hummed.  "That remains to be seen.  I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

     The mere mention of the word _adventure_ had all four fauntlings perking up in interest.  Seeing this, Bilbo commanded, "Go inside, boys, and wash up for second breakfast," and remained resolute despite their grumbled complaints.  He did not want them to get any funny ideas.  Once he knew they were out of earshot, Bilbo turned back to Gandalf with a stern look.  "Even if I had any inclination whatsoever to go on an adventure, nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable thing that it is, I simply can't.  I have four fauntlings.  They are much too young to go on an adventure, and there is no one I trust to watch them."  Except for the Gamgees, but with their own sizeable brood, Bilbo would never expect them to watch his own four.  Merry and Pippin were each the equivalent of five fauntlings.

     "That does pose a problem," Gandalf agreed, to which Bilbo felt relieved.  Until he said, "I think an adventure would be very good for you.  I shall inform the others.  I am sure if we put our heads together, we will discover a solution."

     As Gandalf began to walk away, Bilbo panicked.  "What?  No, no.  Wait!  We don't want any adventures here, thank you!  Not today!  I suggest you try over hill or across the water."  He raced up the steps to get to the door.  Before he fled inside, away from pushy wizards, Bilbo turned and said, "Good morning!"

     He did not stop to see Gandalf's reaction.

~~~~~

     Sitting at the table for supper with his sons, Bilbo could put the events of that morning behind him as if they had never happened.  Other than the initial questions about Gandalf and adventures, to which he had expertly deflected, if he did say so himself, his fauntlings seemed to have forgotten the wizard.  Despite the very tiny part of him, most likely the Took side, that itched to leave the confines of Bag End and the Shire and to see the world beyond, the bigger practical part, the Baggins side, said that it simply couldn't be done.  His boys were his world.  If something happened to them, he would not survive it.  Or worse, if something happened to him, who knew what would become of his sons.  He knew how most of the Shire felt about their situation.  While they may not harm his sons, they may not go out of their way to help them.  No, it was for the best that Bilbo had refused.

     It was as he was finally fully relaxed that the doorbell rang.  Everyone froze.

     "Who could that be, Mama?" Pippin asked, breaking the surprised silence.

     "I...don't know, Pippin," Bilbo answered slowly, uneasiness beginning to churn in his belly.  He had no idea who would come calling at such a late hour, but there was a growing fear that it might be Gandalf.  "I will see who it is.  Stay here and eat your supper."

     Nervously fiddling with his dressing gown as he made his way to the door, Bilbo paused before opening it.  He took a deep breath, prepared some stern words for pushy wizards who didn't understand the meaning of the word _no_ , opened the door, and immediately felt those words disappear in fright.  There, standing in his doorway, was a dwarf so tall and large with a countenance so fierce that Bilbo was more than half-tempted to slam the door and take his boys and hide.  Yet every fiber of Baggins in him kept him from doing just that, even if the dwarf's potent alpha pheromones nearly choked him.  Whether the dwarf realized Bilbo was an omega, Bilbo was not sure, for he gave no reaction.

     "Dwalin, at your service," the dwarf said with a bow.

     Mouth dropping open, Bilbo hurriedly tied his robe.  "Bilbo Baggins...at yours."  The dwarf pushed his way into Bag End, prompting him to say, "Do we know each other?"

     Giving him such a look to make Bilbo doubt his own intelligence, Dwalin replied, "No."  He moved further into the entrance hall, removing his cloak.  "Where is it, laddie?  Is it down here?"

     "Is what down where?"

     "Supper."  As if that was the most obvious answer in all of Middle Earth.  The dwarf then proceeded to toss his cloak at Bilbo, forcing him to catch it.  "He said there'd be food.  Lots of it."

     "He-he said?  Who said?"  Bilbo hurriedly hung Dwalin's cloak before racing to catch up.  "Now hold on just a moment!"  He would have said more, but he nearly ran into Dwalin's broad back.  The cause for the dwarf's sudden stop was apparently the sight of Bilbo's four fauntlings sitting at the table.  Not sure what his reaction would be, Bilbo quickly stepped around Dwalin and put himself between him and his sons.

     Strangely enough, Dwalin only sniffed the air, an odd and undecipherable look crossing his rugged face.  "These yours?"

     Still feeling a little slow on the uptake, Bilbo managed a, "Yes, they are."  Turning, he noted the apprehension and curiosity in his fauntlings' eyes.  If this dwarf was an associate of Gandalf's, which he strongly suspected was the case, then he meant no harm to Bilbo or his sons.  Despite his oddity, Gandalf would not send someone with malicious intent into Bilbo's home.  Time to show his boys that no matter what surprises came across their path, the best thing to do was hold their heads high and be polite.

     "Mister Dwalin, these are my sons Pippin, Frodo, Sam, and Merry.  Boys, this is Mister Dwalin.  He will be joining us for supper tonight."

     Usually, nothing came between Bilbo's sons and their food (except, perhaps, Bilbo's cookies.)  Many scuffles he'd had to break up due to supposed thievery.  Yet now their supper was completely ignored in favor of watching the enormous dwarf eat like this was the first meal he'd had in days.  Bilbo would have felt immensely pleased that Dwalin seemed to enjoy his cooking if not for the fact that his fauntlings were very impressionable and there would be hell to pay if they began to emulate his eating habits.

     "Very good," Dwalin mumbled through a mouth full of food.  Cringing, Bilbo had to avert his eyes.  "Is there anymore?"

     "Uh, yes," Bilbo stuttered, pushing up from his chair and grabbing a plate of biscuits from under the window.  He snuck a couple into the pocket of his robe, which proved to be a smart move since Dwalin began shoving them into his mouth by the handful.

     "Help...yourself."  Humming, Bilbo then added, "It's just that, um...we weren't expecting any company."

     Gandalf must have been laughing at him somewhere, because no sooner had he said that then the doorbell rang.  A smug smirk curved Dwalin's lips.

     "That'll be the door."

     After that, it was a whirlwind of dwarves and chaos.  There was mud everywhere, his pantry was completely pillaged, and the plumbing was all but destroyed.  Gandalf seemed not to care, attempting to make light of the fact that these barbaric dwarves were desecrating his ancestral home.  The only bright side was that they were very careful around Bilbo's fauntlings (which was fortunate because, armed or not, Bilbo would not hesitate to protect his sons.)  In fact, it almost seemed as if they beheld Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo with...reverence.  Although that did not stop them from singing a horrible song and tossing his mother's dishes about as if it was some sort of game (they were lucky it all landed in one piece on the table.)

     Three knocks pounded on the door, halting the dwarves' laughter.

     "He is here," Gandalf murmured, almost ominous-sounding.

     Bilbo was behind Gandalf when he opened the door, so he could not see who was on the other side.

     "Gandalf," the newcomer greeted, stunning Bilbo into stillness.  That voice.  He knew that voice.  "Tell me, what is the name of this place?  I recognize it, though it is difficult to tell in the dark."

     Stumbling from behind Gandalf, Bilbo gaped at the dwarf standing in the doorway.  "Thorin?"

     A shocked silenced.

     "Bilbo?" 

         

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you like!
> 
> I just wanted to add, in case anyone might be confused or offended, when I use the term "mother" and all similar words in regards to a male, I am not feminizing males. In our world, we call those who give birth to us "mother," and the only ones capable of childbirth are female. In a world where males and females give birth, the term "mother" is applied to both. That's just my own quirk.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein dwarves come to the Shire, Bilbo is both fascinated and enamored, and the unlikeliest of friends are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy glittering Arkenstone, Batman! I'm completely blown away! Thank you so much for giving my story a try! For those of you who have left kudos and comments, I am incredibly grateful. Don't think I'm ignoring your comments, because I'm not. I have read each and every one of them and am holding them close to my heart.
> 
> I apologize for the wait you've had. I have a muse that is fickle, so I can usually only write when I have the inspiration to. If I forced myself to write when I did not feel like it, it would not be very pretty. While I will promise that I will never abandon this story and leave it a WIP, I cannot promise regular updates. It could take a few days, it could take a few weeks. Now that classes will be starting for me on Tuesday, it may take awhile for me to update. We shall see.
> 
> As always, this chapter is unbeta'ed, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!

 

     _October 16, 2933 of the Third Age_

 

      Bilbo was weeding the garden when he managed to catch snippets of conversation coming from a newly mated pair, if the way they were holding hands and making cow eyes at each other was any indication, strolling down Bagshot Row.

     "...and did you see those necklaces?" the woman gushed to her mate.  "So beautiful!  The gold one with the emerald would go perfectly with my green dress, don't you think?  And those rings!  What I wouldn't do for one of those!"

     "Hmmm, yes," her mate agreed, his smile indulgent.  "Did you see Hamfast Gamgee fawning over those tools?  He was positively drooling!"  He chortled.  "If that doesn't tell you something about the quality, I don't know what would!  Though, they do say dwarves are excellent smiths, and this dwarf certainly seems to be one of the best.  I wonder what he's doing in the Shire."

     The rest of what they said went unheard as they walked out of earshot, but Bilbo had heard enough.  A dwarf had come to the Shire?  Trying to rack his brain for the last time a dwarf had come to the Shire, he felt his curiosity grow.  His sense of adventure (and love of all things adventurous) had him putting away his trowel, walking back into the smial, and cleaning himself up.

     "Mama, I'm heading down to the market," Bilbo called out, knowing his mother would hear him from her usual spot in the study.  "Is there anything you'd like for me to get?"

     He dried his hands on a dish towel and went in search of his jacket and coin purse.

     "The market?" his mother inquired, shuffling behind him.  She was wrapped in one of his father's robes, appearing fragile in the well-worn cloth.  "You just went not two days ago.  Was there something you had forgotten?"

     Cheeks burning, Bilbo mumbled, "Well, no..." Under his mother's pointed look, he explained, "It's just that...I overheard that there's a dwarf who's set up shop in the market.  I've never seen a dwarf before, and if the stories are true then his work has to be exquisite.  I'd just...like to see it for myself."

     Bilbo fiddled with the buttons of his jacket, suddenly feeling foolish and very un-Baggins-like.  Hobbits were not supposed to be adventurous, Took blood or no.  It was all well and good when you were a child, gallivanting about in search of elves and wizards, but you were supposed to put all of that behind you when you came of age (which Bilbo did...ten years ago.)  It was unseemly for a full-grown gentlehobbit to still dream of going to faraway lands.  It was difficult, but Bilbo was trying.

     "There's the adventurous boy I know and love," his mother said proudly, smile as bright as the sun and eyes twinkling like stars.  Bilbo had not seen her this expressive since his father's passing seven years ago.  Relieved wasn't a strong enough word to describe how he felt seeing his mother still have that spark that had made her Belladonna Took, adventurer and defier of expectations.  "A dwarf, you say?  Hmm, let me grab my coin purse.  Perhaps a pendant or a bracelet would be nice.  Better yet, surprise me."

     Bilbo would buy her anything if it meant she would be happy.  Taking the proffered money and a kiss to the cheek dutifully, he had to tamper the urge to race out of Bag End to the market.  Though excitement thrummed in his veins, Bilbo refused to look like a tween.  Yet, as he strolled down Bagshot Row and approached the busy marketplace, it appeared that everyone and their grandmother had decided to make a trip.  Fortifying himself, he stepped into the crowd and let himself be carried by the flow of people.  Eventually he would make it to wherever the dwarf had set up his stall, but until then Bilbo would enjoy browsing.

     There was a quilt Bilbo knew his mother would love, large and navy blue with an embroidered moon and stars, and some gorgeous pumpkins that would be perfect for his mother's delicious pumpkin pie.  He made a mental note of where there was a stall selling aromatic goat's milk soap, remembering that they were running low.  After coming full circle and browsing through nearly every booth, Bilbo felt confused and a little bit disappointed at not finding the dwarf.  Surely he could not have left between the time Bilbo heard about him and the time he arrived at the marketplace?

     "Excuse me," he said to a young boy who was gleefully rifling through a crate of wooden figurines.  "Do you know where the dwarf is at?  I only just heard about him coming to the Shire, but I can't seem to find him."

     The boy barely paused in his searching to shrug his shoulders, but the owner of the stall must have been listening (or keeping a close eye on the boy to make sure he didn't break anything, not that Bilbo could blame him.  The child was being rather enthusiastic) because he answered, "The dwarf?  He's set up in the old blacksmith's shop.  Putting it to better use than we ever could."

     Thanking the portly hobbit, Bilbo silently scolded himself for not thinking of that sooner.  Of course the dwarf would set up in the forge.  Most of the time it went unused.  A hobbit's craft lay in farming, gardening, cooking, weaving, brewing, and gossiping.  The Shire only had a blacksmith out of pure necessity, and most of the time he'd be found at the Green Dragon Inn, drinking away the little money he'd earned.

      _Putting it to better use, indeed_ , Bilbo thought with a wry smirk.  As he waded through the throng of people, he felt his excitement begin to grown once again.  A dwarf!  If he was lucky, he'd be able to see him in his element, working away in the forge.  Anticipation bubbled, threatening to spill over and make Bilbo do something embarrassing, like giggle.  He'd never felt this giddy since he'd been a fauntling.

     More hobbits than he could have guessed milled about the blacksmith's shop.  Mustering up his Tookish bravery, but softening it with his Baggins politeness, Bilbo pushed his way into the shop until he stood before a display case.  Within it were gorgeous necklaces made of gold and adorned with precious stones, like rubies, amethysts, and emeralds.  Though hobbits were not susceptible to the rumored gold madness like dwarves were, he still felt mesmerized.  Reluctantly moving on, he then looked upon a case filled with rings upon rings.  Gold, silver, and bronze.  Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires.  Complex designs, simple designs, and designs in between.  All exquisite and more than likely worth more than the entire Baggins family fortune.  Everything the dwarf had brought was probably worth more than the entirety of the Shire.

     While deciding whether offering one's soul for one of those pendants was an appropriate payment or not, Bilbo was interrupted by a throat clearing itself.  In his awe, he had not noticed the dwarf standing behind the counter.  He stood not much taller than Bilbo.  Inky black hair threaded with silver fell passed broad shoulders and framed a stern face.  Thick brows arched over sky-blue eyes, and long, straight nose rested over thin, frowning lips.  His scent was that of an alpha's, musky and sharp, but was also unique from any other alpha's, with a hint of freshness like clean linens.

     The dwarf was the antithesis of hobbit beauty, yet Bilbo thought there was a handsomeness to that fierceness.  There was something regal about him, something compelling that made Bilbo want to study him all day.

     "...an I help you?" the dwarf asked, his deep voice a mix between irritation and amusement.

     "Uh, well, I..." Bilbo stammered, cheeks flaming in humiliation at being caught staring.  Damn it, he was not a tween with his first crush!  He was a Baggins of Bag End!  "I've never had the privilege of seeing the craftsmanship of dwarves, and when I'd heard you had come to the Shire...well, I wanted to see it for myself."

     "Is it what you expected?"

     "No.  It's better."  Ah, so the dwarf was not immune to flattery (though it truly was not empty) if the way his features softened just a fraction was anything to go by.  "You see, the little I've been able to read about dwarves does no justice to your incredible skill."

     "And I suppose using honeyed words is just one of your great skills?"

     "I only speak the truth."  Not sure how he went from stuttering like a fool to speaking like a charmer, Bilbo held out his hand and announced, "I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag End."

     A somewhat bemused look crossed the dwarf's face before he took Bilbo's hand.  "Thorin...at your service."

     "Well, Thorin, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."  Almost reluctantly, Bilbo slid his hand from Thorin's strong grip.  He could still feel the callouses and heat tingling on his skin.  "Now, what would you recommend for mothers who are adventurous and formidable?"

~~~~~

     His mother loved the necklace (a simple thing, really; an emerald-cut amethyst set in gold with delicate golden grapevines twining the outer edges of the pendant.  Beautifully elegant in its simpleness) so much, proudly wearing it for everyone to see, that Bilbo found himself back in the blacksmith's shop perusing the display of rings.  The shop was empty this early in the morning, giving Bilbo a chance to take his time.  Perhaps he'd be able to find a ring that would match his mother's necklace.

     "Back again, I see," Thorin noted from where he was sharpening a pair of shears.

     "Yes," Bilbo agreed, not seeing a ring of a similar design to the necklace he bought for his mother.  One did catch his eye, though, a thick band of silver with a nice-sized emerald gleaming from a nest of tiny diamonds.  He'd love to wave it under Lobelia's ugly nose, but it was probably well out of his price range.  "Mother absolutely adores the necklace, by the way.  Good choice."

     "I am glad to have been of service," Thorin said with an incline of his head.  "A dwarf is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated."

     "Did you make all of this yourself?" Bilbo inquired, motioning towards all of the jewelry and tools.  "Or are there others?"  So far he'd not seen any other dwarves.

     "I did not.  My talents lay in blacksmithing," Thorin replied, if a tad rueful.  "I have not the skill to create such fine jewelry.  My kin, who do and who created all of this, are on their way here, now."  There was a brief pause.  "I wanted to be sure this would be a fruitful venture before sending an entire caravan."

     Not only gorgeous but intelligent, as well.  Now he'd only need to be able to cook, garden, and enjoy a good book and Bilbo would be well on his way to proposing, tradition be damned.

     "More dwarves, you say.  Well, I suppose that'll give us hobbits something to talk about until the end of time."  Moving on from the rings, knowing that they would look so out of place on his stubby fingers, Bilbo turned his gaze upon the tools.  Much more practical, and he could see why Hamfast was so impressed.  Sturdy and, by the looks of it, made to last.

     "You are a gardener, then," Thorin mused, watching Bilbo fawn over a spade.  If Bilbo knew better, he'd say there was amusement softening those blue eyes.

     "I have nowhere near the skill Hamfast Gamgee has, but yes," Bilbo agreed, taking the spade and placing it on the counter, "I consider myself a gardener.  I've been told my tomatoes are excellent."

     The sound of a bell chiming signaled someone entering the shop.  Automatically turning to see who it was, Bilbo immediately wished he hadn't.  Followed by her weak-willed alpha, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins sauntered through the door.  Pug nose stuck up high in the air and perpetual scowl down-turning her mouth, Lobelia was Bilbo's worst nightmare made flesh.  Arrogant, domineering, and greedy, she seemed to have made it her personal mission to antagonize Bilbo each and every time they came into contact.  She coveted Bag End, though who knew why, and each year that passed that Bilbo did not announce a mateship, she became more and more aggressive in letting everyone and anyone know her desire to inherit Bag End.

     Over Bilbo's dead body.

     "Good morning," Thorin greeted them, unaware of Bilbo's turmoil.  "Feel free to look around."

     "Oh, I plan to," Lobelia answered, just this side of cocky to almost be snide.  Whether Thorin caught the underlying tone or not, Bilbo couldn't tell, but there was a tightening around his eyes that suggested he sensed something.

     Turning her sharp gaze onto Bilbo, Lobelia gave him an unreadable look, brown eyes flitting between him and Thorin, before ignoring him to coo over the jewelry with Otho, her mate.

     Feeling as if he had just escaped the chopping block, Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief.  Although he did not want to leave the shop (and he would be damned if he allowed Lobelia to run him out) yet wanting to be as far from the Sackville-Baggins as possible, he retreated back to the tools.  Otho had no skill whatsoever at gardening and Lobelia felt herself above such menial labor, so Bilbo figured they would not venture over here any time soon.

     For an eternity it seemed Lobelia and Otho fawned over the dwarven jewelry, asking Thorin the most inane questions.  Although Bilbo had no doubt that Thorin was feeling some sort of frustration, he did not show it.  If anything, he was blandly polite and answered all of their questions with unwavering patience.  A dwarf with hobbit manners.  Could he be any more perfect?

     Finally, _finally_ , they left after purchasing a necklace and bracelet.  Bilbo could have wept in relief.  Approaching the counter with a couple trowels in hand, he felt himself flush under Thorin's knowing gaze.

     "Bad blood?" Thorin inquired as he tallied up Bilbo's purchase.

     Grinning ruefully, Bilbo explained, "In a way.  Lobelia wants to inherit Bag End, my ancestral home.  Whether she married Otho, my cousin, because of that, I couldn't say.  But she makes it known quite clearly that she should be the one to have Bag End."

     Thorin made a questioning noise.  "If you are in direct line for it, as I'm assuming Bag End belongs to your parents, how does she have any claim to it?"

     "I am my parents' only child, but if I don't have a mate or heir, it can go to Otho.  My mother or I, when my mother passes away, can name someone else as my heir, but Lobelia would make such a fuss over it.  If she got enough people to sign a petition, Bag End could go to her."  It was stupid, but that was the way of it.  Bilbo was young yet, he still had time to find an alpha, so he wasn't going to worry overmuch.

     Thorin made no remark about him being mateless, simply handed him his garden tools.  "I wish you all the luck in your...endeavor."

     "Thank you," Bilbo said, chuckling.  "I'll need it."

     If he smiled like a loon all the way to Bag End, well, that was no one's business but his own.

~~~~~

     A few days passed before Bilbo returned to the blacksmith's shop (he was very proud of his restraint, thank you very much, and his mother needed to stop laughing at him.)  This time, it was a bit busier, meaning Thorin's attention was taken up by quite a few curious customers.  So as not to appear as a pining fool, Bilbo ventured around the shop, perusing through the displays.  Amazement still took his breath away a he gazed upon the beauty that was dwarven craftsmanship.  Even if Thorin had not created any of the jewelry himself, they were still a sight to behold.

     Bilbo did not have the chance to speak with Thorin that day, though he did receive a nod in acknowledgement.  Word of Thorin must have spread like wildfire throughout the Shire, and now everyone wanted to see what sort of things a dwarven blacksmith had to offer.  Clearly, they were all appropriately impressed if the way more and more jewelry was seen on the throats, wrists, and fingers of hobbit lasses and Thorin's tools were found in the hands of gardeners was anything to go by.

     Bilbo persisted, however.  There was just something about Thorin that made Bilbo want to know more.  He made a visit every few days, sometimes making a purchase, sometimes not.  At first, Thorin was hesitant around him, as if he wasn't sure what to do with him.  But it was when Bilbo treated him to the wonderful food and drink of the Green Dragon Inn after what appeared to be a long day dealing with demanding customers that he relaxed.  While what they had may not have been necessarily a friendship, they were certainly companionable.  Bilbo shared stories about his parents, how Belladonna Took had taken one look at Bungo Baggins and decided that the mild-mannered alpha would be hers.  How their courtship and eventual mateship was all the Shire could talk about for months.  What it was like to grow up with an adventurous mother and a scholarly father.  How his mother seemed to lose a bit of herself when her mate died seven years ago.  So many stories Bilbo wanted to share with someone who hadn't any preconceived notions about him or his family.

     Thorin was not quite as forthcoming, yet he still shared a few stories about his family.  His sister Dis, who was courageous and had a good head on her shoulders.  His nephews, Fili and Kili, who were mischievous and loyal.  Though Thorin was a dwarf of few words, Bilbo learned that he treasured his family above all else.  Sometimes, when he spoke of his family, there was a pain in Thorin's voice that Bilbo couldn't make sense of but didn't ask about.

     Thorin rarely smiled, not even with his kin who had arrived mid-November.  Trying to tease a smile out of him was like trying to coax and angry cat out from under the bed.  Very difficult and time-consuming, but it could be done.  Each time Bilbo succeeded in making Thorin smile, he experienced a sensation that squeezed all of the air out of his lungs.

     Eventually Bilbo began hearing whispers about his "friendship" with Thorin.  While some considered it to be all in good fun, many disapproved.  After all, who had ever heard of a hobbit mating with a dwarf?  It as unseemly how close they were, especially when the dwarves had made it known that they would eventually leave the Shire.

     It all made Bilbo grit his teeth in frustration.  Couldn't an alpha and an omega simply be friends?  They didn't always have to fall into a mateship.  Yes, Bilbo found Thorin incredibly handsome and desirable as a mate, but what would be the point when Thorin would just leave with the rest of his kin?  Bilbo was not the kind of hobbit who ensnared a mate for selfish reasons.  Thorin would stay because he wanted to, but that was unlikely as he hadn't even hinted at wanting to further their friendship.

    That was all fine with Bilbo.  He would take what he could get and be happy about it.  It was all he could do.

~~~~~

     A sharp wail had Bilbo running towards his mother's bedroom.

     "Mama!" he exclaimed, hearting punching against his ribcage.  He feared the worst, a broken bone or, Aule forbid, an intruder, so he stopped short in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.  Tears streaming down her beautiful lined face, expression so utterly devastated, his mother looked the picture of complete misery.  Her hands, cradled to her chest, trembled.

     Relieved beyond words that there was no burglar, Bilbo took a moment to catch his breath.  Residual panic caused his voice to shake.  "What's wrong?  What happened?"

     Without speaking his mother held out her hands.  A locket, broken in half, lay on her weathered palms.  "I just got it out to-to look at it, and when I opened it...it broke."  A fresh wave of tears spilled over her cheeks.  Voice thick, she explained, "It's the one your papa gave me."

     Heart aching, Bilbo did not hesitate to take his mother's despondent form within his arms, tears stinging his own eyes when sobs wracked her frail body.  His parents' love was the stuff stories were made of.  They had been devoted to each other, partners and best friends.  When his father had passed away, it was like watching the sky lose its sun.  His mother had been, and always would be, strong enough to carry on, but as the seasons passed she seemed to grow frail.

     Bilbo remembered the stories his mother told about this locket.  It had been a gift given to her by his father on Bilbo's first birthday.  A simple thing, but it held hand-drawn portraits of Bilbo and Bungo.  "To always have those you love most close to your heart even if we're not with you," she'd said he told her when he had presented it to her.  While she did not always wear it, it was his mother's most treasured material possession.

     "Let me see it," Bilbo murmured, gently slipping the locket and chain from her fingers.  The hinge holding the two sides together had snapped, most likely from overuse.  An idea began to form in his mind, a cautious hope he was afraid to nurture.  Cradling his mother's tear-stained face between his hands, he softly said, "Go make yourself a pot of tea, get a fire going in the study, and get one of Papa's books."  He held her gaze until she nodded.

     He retrieved his coat, shrugging it on as he searched for a cinch purse.  Finding one in his mother's sewing drawer, he carefully put the locket inside and tightened the drawstrings.

     Before he reached the door, his mother asked, "Where are you going?"

     "I'm going to fix this," Bilbo told her, determination strengthening his voice and his resolve.

~~~~~

     Fortunately, there were not many hobbits in the blacksmith's shop, so he was able to get Thorin's attention quickly.

     Thorin must have seen something in his expression for he immediately ceased whatever task he had been doing.  Concern and worry furrowed his brow as he asked, "Bilbo, what is the matter?"

     It bubbled out of Bilbo.  "My mother's locket- it broke.  It was given to her by my father."  He stopped, voice getting stuck in his throat.  "I fear this may be what finally breaks her.  Please, you must fix it.  Please."  His fingers fumbled with the purse, trembling as he withdrew the locket.

     Very carefully, almost as if he was afraid he'd spook Bilbo, Thorin took the locket and examined the broken pieces.  After what seemed an eternity, he finally looked Bilbo in the eyes.  "It is beyond my ken to be able to work with something of this...fragility.  However," he stressed, when Bilbo's expression began to crumple, "one of my kinsmen can."

     Allowing himself to be guided behind the counter to sit on a rickety wooden chair, Bilbo watched with bated breath as Thorin disappeared into the back of the shop, presumably where the actual forge was located.  Anxiously he worried over a stain on his trousers with his thumb.  What could have been an eternity, but was most likely only a few minutes, passed before Thorin reappeared.  His face, usually set into a perpetually stern expression, seemed especially blank.  Heart lodged in his throat, Bilbo felt like a tightly wound spring about ready to snap.  If the dwarves could not fix his mother's locket, he did not know what he would do.

     "Be at ease, Bilbo," Thorin told him, gravelly voice unusually soft.  "Nangur says he can fix it, though it may take a few hours."

     Bilbo thought, in a vague sense, of the burly red-headed dwarf who had braids beyond measure and who appeared more likely to tear his enemies apart in battle than work with delicate metal.  But all of that was unimportant to the fact that the locket could be fixed, would be fixed.

     Nearly weeping in relief, Bilbo stammered, "Oh-oh, thank you!  Thank you!  Thorin, you have no idea how much this means to me!  H-how much will the repair cost?  I have more than enough to cover it, but I may need to run home to get it.  I-"

     "No," Thorin firmly said.  "I will not accept payment from you.  Bilbo...you are my friend.  You could ask anything of me and I would gladly do it.  Nangur knows and understand this."

     Speechless, Bilbo nodded dumbly.  Thorin considered him as a friend?  If Bilbo became any more elated, surely he would burst.

     "Do you mind if I stay here to wait?" he requested.  "I want the next time I see my mother to be when I hand her the locket."

     Thorin nodded his head in assent, and, to pass the time, they began to trade stories about pesky, but well-meaning, family members.

~~~~~

     The complete and utter joy that lit up his mother's face, making her appear decades younger, as he handed her the repaired locket made Bilbo feel such an overwhelming emotion towards Thorin.  Later, Bilbo would realize that that moment was when he had truly fallen in love with Thorin.

     Oh, dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you have posted some concerns about taking the fauntlings with the Company. I appreciate your concern and I am always open to questions you may have. Whether you realize it or not, sometimes what you say may actually help me make something better or get me out of a stuck place. My question for you is this:
> 
> No matter how much I want the Company to take the fauntlings with them on their quest, it simply is unrealistic or unfeasible when you take into account the characters and their personalities/dynamics. There are also certain events that have to occur for the purposes of my story that probably wouldn't occur the same way if the fauntlings are with the company. What do you think should happen?
> 
> a) Bilbo leaves the fauntlings for Hamfast Gamgee to watch while they are away, and when Erebor is retaken he will return for them, or  
> b) They decide, after much cajoling and pleading with Thorin, to meet Dis at Rivendell where she will take them back to the Blue Mountains until Thorin and Company reclaim Erebor.
> 
> Do you think these are good solutions, or do you have something that you think is better? Let me know. Your thoughts are important.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo deals with loss once again, and Thorin proves he is a steadfast friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with a third part! This is a somewhat short one, but I have a reason why it's taken me so long to write it. Originally there was going to be more to it, but as I was writing the rest of the chapter, I felt that it didn't fit with the tone of the beginning. So you're getting a shorter chapter sooner than originally planned.
> 
> I greatly appreciate the thought all of you have put to my questions. Some of you noted about the age of the fauntlings, that it might not be too outrageous for them to be taken on the quest when you take into account the time period this world is set in. I didn't outright say how old the fauntlings are at the beginning of the story; I put the dates at the beginning of each chapter as a way to subtly give an indication of time. When the Company first comes to Bag End, the fauntlings are about five and a half years old. I apologize if I made them seem older, but I know how five year olds behave; I've been working in a child care center for over five years and have spent extensive amounts of time with children six weeks of age to twelve years of age. I have some insight. Anyway, if that changes anyone's mind, you are more than welcome to share your thoughts with me.
> 
> That being said, I have read each and every comment you guys have posted (which heartens me more than you know) and I think I have come up with a solution that I think remains true to the characters as well as taking into account the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics I have included. That particular chapter won't come until a while later; I still have to include how Bilbo becomes pregnant in the first place! ;)
> 
> Unbeta'd. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

     _April 28, 2934 of the Third Age_

 

     The sky was a soft periwinkle blue, dotted by fat white, fluffy clouds.  The towering trees and rolling hills were once again green with vibrant life.  Flowers of all kinds were bursting with incredible colors, pink, yellow, blue, and purple, and the gentle breeze occasionally brought a whiff of their sweet scents.  Birdsong filled the air with its melodic tune.  A perfect spring morning.

     It did not match the black mood Bilbo was in.  Fingers tightly clutched his mother's pendant as he numbly watched his mother's body be buried next to his father.

     A few mornings ago, he had meant to rouse his mother for a trip to the Gamgees', hoping a visit with their close friends would brighten her day.  When she hadn't responded to his gentle proddings, he realized that her chest had not risen with breath.  Frantic and disbelieving, Bilbo had run to the Gamgees', who in turn called for the doctor.  Now, instead of enjoying a nice elevensies as they usually did, Bilbo was burying his mother.

     Despair, thick and overwhelming, threatened to choke him.  Breathing became more and more difficult as reality set in.  Now both of his parents were dead.  No longer would her hear his mother's fantastic stories.  No more were the days when he could sit with his parents and talk with them for hours about anything and everything.  No more hugs when comfort was needed.  No more kisses to cheeks and foreheads.  No more stories and no more wise advice.  He was alone.

     The despair clawed his heart, bringing sharp, stinging tears.  A keen built up in his chest, growing and growing until it threatened to burst out.

     He was alone.

     A strong hand firmly gripped his shoulder, pulling Bilbo back to reality.

     _No_ , he corrected, _not alone_.  Thorin stood behind him, silently offering his steadfast support, and for that, Bilbo was eternally grateful.  No sooner had he called for Thorin after the doctor had pronounced his mother dead then Thorin was there, understanding that Bilbo needed a rock to hold onto during this storm of despair, denial, and anger.  When Bilbo had to make arrangements for the burial, Thorin was there making sure he didn't scream himself hoarse.  And now, as Belladonna Baggins was finally laid to rest, Thorin was there to provide comfort and a reminder to not wallow in self-pity.

     His parents may be gone, but Bilbo knew his mother would slap him upside the head if she thought he was wallowing.  She would tell him he was allowed to grieve, he needed to grieve, but he needed to take his sorrow and use it to make himself a stronger, better hobbit.

     With that thought in mind, Bilbo straightened his shoulders.  His tears he left alone, knowing they were going to come whether he wanted them to or not.  Reaching up a hand, he rested it atop Thorin's and squeezed it.

     The rest of the ceremony was a blur of condolences and stories.  It was nearly dusk before Bilbo was allowed to leave the feast his distant relatives had put together in his mother's honor.  While he appreciated their efforts, he was ready for the comforts of his smial, empty thought it may be.  Thorin followed him without a word, his hand gently gripping Bilbo's elbow.

     Anyone else and Bilbo would have found a way to politely tell them he desired solitude.  He was not entirely sure what made Thorin the exception.  Perhaps it was because Bilbo was in love with him, but even his mother and father had needed space away from each other from time to time.  Even so, he was glad of Thorin's presence.  He did not know how he would have been able to handle all of this on his own.

     The round green door of Bag End appeared before him sooner than he'd realized.  Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, Bilbo pushed it open and stepped over the threshold.  The smial was completely dark, no candles having been lit.  It was silent, too, eerily so.

     Not realizing he was crying until Thorin's calloused fingers were brushing away his tears, Bilbo finally let himself break.  Sobs wracked his body, shuddering breaths heaved his chest.

     "Bilbo..."  The empathizing pain in Thorin's voice made Bilbo cry all that much harder.  Thorin pulled him into his arms, his body a buffer against the outside world.  Bilbo's arms came around Thorin of their own accord, squeezing tight.

     Bilbo could not have said how long they stood there in the entry hall, holding each other.  Time must have not passed too much, for when his sobs finally subsided, night had not yet completely fallen.  Reluctantly he pulled away from Thorin and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.  After he'd dried his tears and blew his nose, he finally looked up to meet Thorin's eyes.

     "W-would you like to join me for a cup of tea?" he asked, his voice only cracking once.  "Unless you need to return to your kin.  It is rather late."

     "I would very much enjoy a cup of tea," Thorin answered, ignoring Bilbo's last statements as if they had not even been said.

     Having something to do filled Bilbo with a renewed sense of purpose.  "It'll take just a bit to boil the water.  I have some biscuits, if you'd like, though you might still be full from the feast."  He led Thorin to the kitchen, lighting some candles along the way.

     Going from an extreme emotion to suddenly being calm filled Bilbo with nervous energy, so he puttered about the kitchen, collecting the tea bags and gathering a plate of biscuits.  All the while he felt Thorin's intense gaze tracking his every movement.

     "I, uh," he paused, back facing Thorin, "I appreciate everything you have done for me these past few days."  He turned, bringing himself to meet glittering blue eyes.  "I... do not think I could have done this without you."

     Thorin held his gaze for a few moments before he dropped it to stare at his clasped hands.  "It has been a long time, but... I do know the deep ache of loss.  My mother was killed during an... attack on our home.  She was much like your own mother, beautiful and strong-willed, so her loss was felt keenly by many.  No one should have to face their grief alone, least of all you."

     The whistling of the tea kettle prevented Bilbo from responding.  As he filled two mugs with boiling water and placed a tea bag in each, he pondered Thorin's words.  He was glad, but surprised, that Thorin had shared a bit more about himself.  He'd only ever talked about his sister and his nephews and, on a rare occasion, his close friends who always remained nameless.  There was always the sharp scent of sorrow whenever Thorin mentioned his past.  Bilbo longed to be the one Thorn would share his pain with, that no matter how great, Thorin knew he didn't have to carry that burden alone.

     But Bilbo knew that was but a foolish dream.

     "Here we are," he murmured as he placed a steaming mug in front of Thorin.  He took a seat across from him, inhaling the perfumey scent of chamomile.  The heat emanating from the tea spread throughout his body as he took slow, careful sips.  A tension he hadn't realized was still present loosened, and he found himself relaxing.

     "What... will you do now?"  Thorin's tone was careful, causing Bilbo to meet his gaze over the rim of his mug.

     "I don't know," he admitted.  He tilted his head in thought.  "Everything has been left to me.  The Baggins family is not incredibly wealthy, but if I'm careful I can live comfortably for the rest of my days.  I've always been fond of reading, you know.  Perhaps I'll take up writing my own tries. And there's my garden to consider.  Whatever I don't need I can just sell to my neighbors."

     "And if Lobelia Sackville-Baggins begins knocking on your door?"

     "Then she'll find a force to be reckoned with.  I am no meek omega who will let anyone dictate my future.  She will rue the day she decided she was better than me."

     "Spoken like a true dwarf."

     That startled a chuckle out of Bilbo.  "But I am no dwarf, as you can clearly see!"

     "Tis true, but you have the spirit of one.  Stubborn, fierce, and loyal.  I would fear for Lobelia's safety if I did not know she deserves everything you could do to her."

     "Well..."  Trailing off, Bilbo felt his cheeks flush at Thorin's praise.  He had to silently tell his traitorous heart that Thorin was speaking as a friend, not as a potential mate.

     By the time they shared a kettle's worth of tea between them, light had disappeared completely and the moon and stars were out in full force.

     "Time slows for no one, it seems," Thorin remarked, a slight smile curving his mouth.

     "If you'd like," Bilbo began, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, "you could stay here for the night.  It's awfully dark out, and your sense of direction is bad enough as it is."

     Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at him, and Bilbo had to fight to keep a straight face.  Oh, but teasing Thorin was fun!

     "Your offer is generous, but what would the Shirefolk think?"

     "Probably something ridiculous, but quite frankly, I don't give a damn what they would think!  The only opinions I care about belong to those who wouldn't give a damn either."

     Silence fell as Bilbo let Thorin make his decision.  Truly Thorin could agree or not, it wasn't a big deal, but there was a part of Bilbo that hoped he stayed, if only so he didn't have to feel alone.

     Thorin's slow nod both eased him and set his heart thumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, let me know your thoughts if you'd like.
> 
> I don't have a tumblr, but I would love to take requests if you have them. Keep in mind that right now, Some Kind We Never Forget is my top priority. However, that doesn't mean I can't write in between.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns a bit about dwarven culture and shares a little about hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry that it's taken so long to get this chapter out! It's not even that long! All I can say is that this month has been crazy. I've had to take three family members to the emergency room, school is keeping me busy, and a thing called the Sims 4 came out. Other than that, I have no excuse!
> 
> This chapter was sparked in part by a reader commenting on how dwarves might possibly treat their omegas. I wanted to show it now rather than try to squeeze it in during the actual quest. I think this was is a little bit easier, especially for me.
> 
> As I stated last chapter, if you ever want me to write you a fic, please feel free to leave a request/prompt in the comment section or send me a message. This story will be my priority, but I would not mind writing something else, too. It just has to be in a fandom I am familiar with. I'm pretty open to just about any pairing; while I prefer slash, het and femslash are just fine with me. Most kinks are fine with me, but I will tell you if I don't feel comfortable with writing certain ones.
> 
> Unbeta'd as usual; see a mistake, point it out.

       _July 3, 2934 of the Third Age_

 

     "If you don't mind me asking," Bilbo started, both he and Thorin enjoying a pipe and sitting on a bench just outside the smial.  Apparently, Thorin's kin had felt Thorin needed a break from running the forge or something, for when Bilbo had looked up from his book, he'd seen Thorin stomping down Bagshot Row with such a look of consternation on his face.  He did seem the kind to dedicate himself to working hard without thought of his own comfort.  Well, Bilbo thought it was high time someone taught Thorin how to enjoy a nice summer day, and this was shaping to be a nice one indeed.  "How do... oh, how do I put this without seeming rude...how do dwarven dynamics...interact with each other?"

     "You mean, how do our alphas treat our omegas?"  
     Thorin did not seem irritated or insulted, so Bilbo took it as a sign to continue.  "Well, when you put it like that, it makes it seem I'm expecting the worst.  Call it pure scholarly curiosity.  Obviously I know how hobbit alphas and omegas behave, and I've seen a little of how men are, which really isn't promising, so I'm interested in how the dynamics work in the other races.  Yes, how do dwarf alphas treat omegas?  But how do dwarf omegas treat alphas?  How do your alphas and omegas behave in general?"

     Thorin took a long draw from his pipe.  He blew thick puffs of smoke before answering Bilbo's questions.  "Through my travels, I have seen more than my fair share of the behavior of men, and I agree with you.  It does not shine a favorable light on men.  I do not know, nor do I care about, the dynamics of elves."

     Having learned it the hard way, Bilbo bit his tongue to prevent himself from scolding Thorin of his contempt.  Although he loved elves himself, he knew better than to defend them against Thorin.

     "Although omegas are more precious to us than all of Middle-Earth, they are our equals.  They will accept no less, and we refuse to demean them by treating them as lesser.  Some of our greatest warriors and leaders have been omegas."

     "Really?"

     Thorin nodded.  "Just because an omega goes through heats and gives birth does not mean they are any less capable than alphas.  An alpha's rut is just the other side of the same coin."

     "So... how do dwarves go about picking mates?"

     "By finding our Ones."

     "Ones?"

     "Yes.  Our Ones are... the other half of our soul, for lack of better words.  Our Ones are meant for us just as we are meant for them.  There will be no one else for us."

     Hobbits had no such concept.  While not promiscuous by any means, they enjoyed flirting with and courting different potential suitors, discovering what they did and didn't like in a spouse before finding one who fit their needs.  For some, it could take several suitors before finding one you'd want to mate with.  For others, like Bilbo's parents, it just took one.  But in a way, it could be nice to know that there was someone meant just for you.

     "How do you know when you've found your One?" Bilbo asked.

     Tapping his pipe against his lower lip, Thorin seemed deep in thought.  "I believe it is different for each dwarf.  Some liken it to a blow to the chest, an immediate recognition of their One the moment they meet them.  Others have said that the feeling came after knowing their Ones for years, one moment seeing them as friend or foe, what have you, the next moment knowing they are their Ones.  Then there are those in between.  I have not had the honor of find my One, so I cannot tell you what it feels like to have finally found your One."

     Bilbo knew it was foolish to feel disappointed at that (or hope, Thorin _had_ said it had taken years for some dwarves to recognize their Ones.)  Thorin had told him that he and his kin would be leaving in January to go back to the Blue Mountains, so unless he suddenly recognized Bilbo as his One before then, Bilbo needed to let go of his feelings for Thorin.  It was highly unlikely for a dwarf to find a mate in a hobbit, anyways.

     "Are there those who... never find their Ones?" he asked hesitantly.

     Thorin gave him a slow nod.  "I would like to believe Mahal would not have put us on this earth only to spend our days without a mate by our side, but I have known those who did not find their Ones.  Usually it is because of war, dwarven warriors slain in battle before they have mated.  Sometimes... sometimes they simply do not cross paths.  But they are few and far between."

     Shrieking and laughter interrupted them as a pack of fauntlings raced down Bagshot Row.  Shaking his head with a grin, Bilbo remembered fondly of his own days terrorizing the Shire and running his parents ragged.  Often times he had been the leader and instigator of many a mischievous prank.  How his parents put up with him without ever using a solid spanking, he'd never know.

     "The Shire is blessed to have so many young.  Dwarves would be fortunate indeed if we had half as many," Thorin noted, eyes soft as he watched the fauntlings play.

     "Hmmm, you say that now, but wait until you have a litter of five," Bilbo pointed out in amusement.  "Then we shall see if you still believe you are blessed."

     He was met with silence.  Thorin's stunned expression met his gaze as he looked back at him.

     "Five?"  If Bilbo didn't know that Thorin wouldn't appreciate it, he would have chuckled at his strangled tone.

     "Yes, five," he agreed, smiling around his pipe.  "Usually an omega hobbit has at least two in a litter, more depending on their and their alpha's health and fertility.  The most I've ever heard was eight, but that hasn't happened in decades."

     Now Thorin looked about ready to faint, or as close to it as Thorin could look.  "How can they survive it?"

     "Who?"

     "The omegas and the fauntlings.  Having so many during a pregnancy cannot be anything but a strain on the body.  And birthing..."  Was it Bilbo, or did Thorin look alarmingly pale?  "It is a wonder that the Shire is... flourishing."

     "It appears that way, yes.  But it is not as difficult as you might think.  Hobbit babes tend to be pretty small.  Healthy, but small.  Some pregnancies can be more difficult than others, but it is rare that we have complications that lead to... death."  Pausing, Bilbo's brow furrowed in thought.  "I haven't really thought about why hobbits are so fertile.  Perhaps it is because our lives are so... comfortable.  We have plenty of food and little danger beyond Lobelia's schemes.  Maybe our bodies know that we can handle it."

     "Perhaps.  Dwarven litters typically have just one dwarfling, rarely two, and never more than that.  That is why we cherish our children and would protect them by any means necessary.  Not that I am implying that hobbits do not feel the same."

     "No, I understand.  We love our children above all else, but perhaps we do take it for granted.  I, myself, am a rare case of being an only child.  My parents never did say why they didn't have more children."

     Suddenly feeling a tightening in his chest at the thought of his parents, Bilbo cleared his throat and noticed that his pipe weed was nothing but ash.  Dumping it onto the ground, he stood from the bench and turned to face Thorin.  "I do believe it is time for luncheon.  Would you care to join me?"

     Thorin made no comment about his abrupt change in subject, just followed him into Bag End.

~~~~~

      "How do hobbits go about courting?"

     Bilbo supposed he should have expected it, especially after his probing questions about dwarves a few days ago.  He finished setting the table for afternoon tea before he replied.  It was not that the ways of hobbit courting were secret, far from it, but Bilbo found it somewhat difficult to put into words something that was so ingrained into the hobbit way of life to be practically innate.  Where to begin?

     "Hobbits do not have Ones, at least, not that I am aware of," he started as he poured steaming hot tea into Thorin's tea cup (and what a sight it was to see his thick fingers attempt to delicately hold something so fragile,) "so I suppose our courting would be different from dwarven courting.  First, you find someone who piques your interest, be it simple attraction, shared interests, what have you."

     "How do you know that they are a suitable mate?  Pure attraction alone is not a basis more mateship."

     "That's what the courtship is for.  Once you have found a potential mate, you both set up little excursions, the purpose of which is to get to know each other.  They must be chaperoned by an older relative to make sure nothing... unseemly occurs.  Then, if they two are agreeable, they will announce a betrothal."

     "How long does it take before a betrothal?"

     Bilbo hummed in thought.  "It depends.  For some couples, it only takes a few outings before they announce it.  For most, it takes several.  After all, you do want to make sure you are both suited for each other.  Once a betrothal has been made, the couple enters a gift-giving stage.  This is to show that you can provide for your mate and future children, that you know your betrothed very well."

     "What kind of gifts do hobbits give?"

     Bilbo had to once again squash that tenacious sliver of hope that wanted to make him think Thorin was asking all of these questions out of more than just curiosity.

     "Flowers are popular.  So is food.  Things that are hand-crafted are greatly appreciated for the time and effort that was put into making them.  Hobbits are usually easy to please."

     "Do hobbits hold a ceremony or simply form a mateship in private?"

     "A bit of both, actually.  If they are still happy with each other, the couple will announce a date for the wedding.  It's really just a formality, an excuse for a big party to celebrate the couple.  The actual mateship occurs afterward in the privacy of their home."

     Throat suddenly dry at the thought of what exactly that entailed, Bilbo drained his now cool tea in one go.  "Hobbits are pretty simple.  Do dwarves court?  I mean, if you have a destined One, it might seem a bit redundant to go through all of that when you know you are meant to be."

     "In that, you are correct," Thorin answered.  "We do not go through that initial process that hobbits do.  Instead, we start with the exchanging of gifts.  Much like hobbits, we do it to prove we are worthy mates and, if Mahal so wishes it, parents.  I believe that dwarves are more alike than we think, for we, too, hold hand-crafted gifts in high regard.  Other than our Ones, a dwarf's craft is his calling.  To gift your One with an item of your own making means you respect your mate and trust them with something so personal."

     "What kind of gifts do dwarves make?" Bilbo couldn't help but ask.

     "Weapons, armor, jewelry, toys.  Sometimes food and clothing.  A dwarf's craft is unique to his kin's, even if both are skilled in blacksmithing, so their gifts are one of a kind."

     Curiosity and an apparent need to torture himself made Bilbo inquire, "When you find your One, what kind of gifts would you give?  If you don't mind me asking, of course."

     "I," Thorin started after a long silence, "would make a shirt of mail made of only the strongest mithril to show my mate that even when I cannot be with them, they will always have my protection.  If my One believes I am worthy, I would then make something that would represent who they are, to show that everything that makes up my mate is important to me."

     "You've... put a lot of thought into this," Bilbo commented slowly, throat tight at the utter yearning in Thorin's voice.  His own yearning was squeezing his chest in a vice.

     "Of course," Thorin replied in a low voice.  "I...can only hope that when I finally have the honor of meeting my One, I am worthy of them.  I want to show them that they are more precious to me than the sharpest blade, the sturdiest shield, and the shiniest jewel.  I pray, like all dwarves, that my One deems me a worthy mate."

     Was it terrible of Bilbo to be jealous of a person he didn't even know?  That level of devotion was incredible.

     "Whoever your One is," he finally said, his voice thick, "they would be lucky to have you as a mate."

     Thorin's hesitant, barely-there smile nearly broke Bilbo's heart.  Did he not see how amazing he was?  His One better know how damned lucky they were to have Thorin as a mate, or Bilbo would be having words!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you like!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's heat is approaching and Thorin is stuck in Bag End due to heavy snowfall (convenient plot devices are convenient.) What ever shall Bilbo do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe....uh, yeah. Sorry? All I can say is that my muse is a fickle thing, coming and going as she pleases. I really did not mean to let two months pass before I updated this, but better late than never, amiright? If it is any consolation, tis the chapter with smut. Part of the reason it has taken me so long to update is because difficult smut is difficult. I can read it, I can think about it, but I sure have a difficult time writing it. I hope it is passable.
> 
> A little disclaimer here: I know that in most A/B/O fics there is an element of dub-con/non-con. This is not one of them. Though Bilbo is in heat when he asks Thorin to help him, he is in a period of lucidity when he does so. His mind is clear and he is very capable of giving or withholding consent. Plus, my Thorin would never take advantage of Bilbo or any other omega without their express permission. I just wanted to say this in case there is anyone who may be wary of reading something like this.
> 
> Unbeta'ed as always; see any mistakes or mischaracterizations, please point them out.

    

 

_December 20, 2934 of the Third Age_

 

     Later, Bilbo would curse his awful luck all the way to Bree and back again.  Now, however, he was going to figure out how he was going to deal with his approaching heat with Thorin stuck in Bag End with him.  Under normal circumstances, he would have just found a polite way to tell Thorin he would be...indisposed for the next few days, and that would have been that.  Unfortunately, a heavy snowfall had shut Bilbo and Thorin in Bag End, and unless Thorin wanted to risk getting lost and losing important body parts to frostbite, he would be staying in Bag End until the snow stopped.  It was not Fell Winter bad, but bad enough that the front door could barely budge open.

     While Bilbo trusted Thorin and knew he would never take advantage, it was still embarrassing to know that Thorin would know what he would be doing in his bedroom for the next three days.  Where were his parents when he needed them to provide company for Thorin while Bilbo answered nature's call?

     Already he felt warmer than usual, a barely-there feeling of arousal simmering low in his belly.  Soon his temperature would almost be fever-high and his arousal would grow and grow until he could no longer ignore it.  While he wouldn't become a mindless beast seeking pleasure in any way he could, as some might have believed, it was still going to be difficult to be near Thorin and imagine the kinds of things he'd like to do with him that would make the little old ladies faint dead away.

     Slowly inching his way down the hall towards the study where Thorin was, Bilbo desperately thought of what he would say that wouldn't cause him to perish in pure mortification.  Usually he had a way with words that came so natural to him.  Where were they now?

     Clearing his throat, he smiled weakly at Thorin when he looked up from his book.  "Thorin, umm...there is something I must tell you.  You see..."

     "You are in heat," Thorin stated bluntly, sniffing the air.

     Caught slightly off guard, yet grateful he wouldn't have to explain himself, Bilbo paused.  "You can smell it already?  It doesn't start until the day after next."  His pheromones normally only become sweeter and more noticeable a few hours before his heat began.

     Thorin nodded.  "It isn't overpowering and it's only just become apparent."  He closed his book and set it aside, rising from his chair so that he faced Bilbo fully.  "What do you need me to do?"

     Thankful for Thorin's way of getting straight to the point, Bilbo said, "Umm, well, since you're stuck here until the snow clears, which might take more than a few days, I figured that you could take the spare room next to the entrance hall.  It's the farthest away from my room, so you shouldn't be as affected.  And if you can set food and water outside my door every few hours, that would be wonderful."

     Even as Thorin nodded, there was still a look of concern furrowing his brow.  "Is there not anything else I can do?  I can...I can go find some of your kin.  Surely they can help."

     "No, no.  It's fine, Thorin.  I can take care of myself.  I've been doing it since I came of age.  I just need you to make sure I have enough sustenance so that I am not too severely weakened by the end.  I would do it myself, but I...don't want to bother you with..." Bilbo trailed off, motioning vaguely at himself.  He had gotten better at not blushing at the drop of a hat, but it was all too easy to feel self-conscious.

     "Your trust in me is humbling," Thorin murmured, an inscrutable expression on his face.  "I will persevere to never break it.  I will do as you ask."

~~~~~

     Time worked in mysterious ways when Bilbo was in heat.  It slowed to the point of moving no faster than thick molasses, making Bilbo feel as if he would spend an eternity stuck in perpetual arousal.  Yet, simultaneously, time also streaked by in a blur, one moment it's the start of the heat and the next moment it was the end.  He had moments of lucidity, where the arousal abated for just a bit so that he could replenish himself.  Longer still were the moments where he was unfocused, his body's urges keeping him preoccupied.

     And through it all, there was Thorin.  No sooner would Bilbo begin to feel the pangs of hunger than there would be a knock on the door.  After he'd make sure to wait long enough for Thorin to retreat, Bilbo would open the door to see a tray laden with food.  While it would never be his mother's cooking, he refused to complain.  No, he would be forever grateful to Thorin and his kindness.

     At the moment, Bilbo was in a period of lucidity.  Perhaps a day had passed, maybe a day and a half.  He was tired already, sore from his toys and ravenous for food.  His room reeked of the sweetness of heat the muskiness of his slick.  Hopefully his bed sheets were salvageable, though he still had a ways to go.

     Stretching his body, Bilbo decided that he needed to move.  He'd spent too long already in bed and would spend more moments in it yet.  Stretching his legs would be nice.  Gingerly he swung his legs off the side of the bed.  Slowly he stood, careful not to overstrain himself.  His legs felt rubbery (though, Bilbo supposed that having several orgasms in a short period of time would do that to anybody.)  Once he was certain he was steady on his legs, he shuffled towards his dresser.

     "Aren't I just a sorry sight?" he murmured to himself, looking at his reflection in dismay.  His honey-toned curls were a riotous mess, twisted and tangled until they looked more like a bird's nest.  His entire face was flushed, but beneath the glow of his heat there were lines of exhaustion marring his face.  Though most omegas were more than capable of spending their heats alone, having an alpha, especially an alpha mate, eased the strain.  But Bilbo could not ask Thorin to help him.  For one, he did not want to lose the friendship he had with him, for surely that was what would happen if he were to cross that boundary.  For another, he would not ask Thorin to spend a heat with someone who was not his One.

     No, Bilbo would do this on his own no matter how much he yearned to know Thorin's touch.

     The knock on his bedroom door came so unexpectedly, that, without a thought, Bilbo turned and opened it.  Seeing Thorin standing there, blue eyes wide and nostrils flared, reminded Bilbo that he was naked.  And smelling of heat.

     The yelp he let out was anything but dignified, as was slamming the door shut again.  Humiliation burned hot like fire and tightened his throat until he thought he might choke.

     "Bilbo...I...I'm sorry," Thorin's muffled voice tore through Bilbo's quest to mentally flagellate himself for forgetting that Thorin would have been the only one to knock on his door.

     "No, nono," Bilbo rushed to interject.  "The fault is entirely my own.  I should have waited to open the door.  I'm...I'm sorry if I have offended you."

     "Offended...me?"  His voice was so slow that Bilbo couldn't tell if Thorin was angry or confused.  It was difficult to tell with a door between them.  "You have not offended me.  Why would you think that?"

     At a loss for words, Bilbo shrugged his shoulders before realizing that Thorin couldn't see him.  "I don't know," he struggled to say.  "You are far from delicate.  I..."  A gust of air whooshed out of him.  "My heat must be taking more out of me than I've realized."

     Quickly sliding his robe on, he slowly opened the door.  Thorin still held the tray of food, which probably had gotten cold by now, so Bilbo took it.  He forced a smile, exhausted and embarrassed as he was.

     "Thank you, Thorin, for this.  You'll never know how much I appreciate it."  He waited until the door was shut before setting the tray down and raising a shaking hand to his brow.  Oh Yavanna, he was never going to be able to face Thorin again.

~~~~~

     Bilbo was beginning to feel a bit...worried.  His heat, which usually lasted three days, was now in its fifth and still going strong.  Hardly able to lift his head off of his pillow, he hadn't the faintest clue as to how he was going to get through the rest of his heat.  It couldn't last too much longer, could it?  He'd never heard of someone having a heat longer than, what...four days?  From the way his body felt, heavy and weak, he wasn't so sure he couldn't endure much more.

     Hunger and thirst clawed at him, but when Bilbo tried sitting up, a wave of dizziness made him fall back.

     "Thor...Thor...in," he croaked.  Even his voice was too weak to be louder than a whisper.  What was wrong with him?  Swallowing painfully, he gathered the last of his reserves.  "Thorin!"

     Heavy footsteps announced Thorin's arrival outside Bilbo's bedroom door.  "Bilbo?  What's the matter?"  There was a slight pause.  "Why haven't you eaten?"

     "Please...come in."  Speaking took too much effort.  Eyes slipping shut, Bilbo felt exhaustion weigh heavily on him.

     The musky scent alpha, both heady and soothing, made him whine.  Opening his eyes was a battle in itself, but he managed it.  Thorin's concerned face was the first thing he saw, followed by the food he carried.

     "Why haven't you eaten, Bilbo?" Thorin inquired as he set the tray next to Bilbo on the bed.  "I brought this nearly an hour ago."

     "I am...too weak.  My heat hasn't...stopped," Bilbo forced himself to say, slurring his words just a bit.  "I don't know...what's wrong."

     "How long is your heat usually?"

     "Three days."

     "And it's been five.  Mahal."  Thick-fingered hands rubbed at Thorin's brow.  "You need sustenance, to keep up your strength.  Are you opposed to me...helping you?"

     After his head refused to shake, he whispered, "No."

     Helping Bilbo sit up a bit against his pillows, Thorin began slowly spoon-feeding him a light broth.  It had gone cold, but to Bilbo it tasted absolutely delicious.  The cool water Thorin helped him sip was a balm to his sore throat.  As he struggled to chew small chunks of bread, he couldn't help but study Thorin.  Perhaps it was the heat talking, but Thorin seemed so...beautiful.  The first word to come to most others' minds when thinking of Thorin probably wasn't beautiful, but there it was.  The warm glow of Bilbo's lit candles softened his stern features.  His scent, unmistakably alpha but soothing all the same, enveloped Bilbo until he felt protected, cared for.  Even if this was only because Thorin was concerned, he was going to catalog it for the days when Thorin was gone.

     As if sensing that Bilbo had eaten all he could have eaten, Thorin took the tray away.  Belly full and thirst quenched, Bilbo's eyes grew heavier by the moment.  Before he succumbed to the beckoning embrace of slumber, he heard Thorin murmur, "Sleep, Bilbo.  We will speak when you are rested."

~~~~~

     When he woke, Bilbo felt more alert.  He still felt weak, but the arousal of his heat was a low simmer as opposed to a full-blown blaze.  However long he slept for, it had done him quite a bit of good.  His head felt clearer and his body didn't feel as if it would simply melt into the bed.  He shifted underneath the sheet Thorin must have placed over him while he had slept, and he realized he was naked.  _Oh well_ , he thought ruefully to himself, _it's nothing he hasn't seen before_.

     Unfortunately, his heat was still going as he still felt the persistent thrum of desire in his belly.  What in the world was going on with him?  What would cause his heat to last five, six days?  He wasn't ill, was he?  It couldn't be stress, because honestly, all things considered, his stress had been fairly mild.  He's have sent Thorin to fetch the healers, but a glance out his window told him that the snow was still coming down.

     "Bilbo, how do you feel?" Thorin inquired, pulling Bilbo from his worries.  So lost in his thoughts that he hadn't seen Thorin sitting in an armchair he must have pulled close to the bed.  He looked...well, he looked tired, and Bilbo felt inexplicably guilty about that because he knew he was the cause.

     "I am feeling much better, thank you," he replied, making sure to convey how thankful he truly was.

     "And the heat?"

     Sighing, Bilbo answered, "Still there."  He paused, looking down at his tightly clasped hands before lifting his gaze to meet Thorin's.  "What is wrong with me?  I mean, I've...I've never heard of someone's heat lasting two, three days longer than it should.  Have you?"

     Thorin shook his head.  "I have not."  The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, concern pulling at his features.  "You've never had a heat last longer than three days?"

     "No.  It's rather punctual."

     "Have you ever had anybody...help you?"

     "No.  It was just my parents."  He'd never felt interested or comfortable allowing unmated alphas help him through his heats, though he hadn't been short on offers.

     "What is different now?"

     Well, his parents were gone, for one, but that shouldn't have had any impact.  Thorin's presence was another, but..."Could it be you?"  Now that he thought about it, it sort of made sense.

     Taken aback, Thorin pondered over his question.  "What do you mean?"

     "Well, we've known each other for just a little over a year.  Different races aside, I'm an unmated omega.  You're an unmated alpha.  You being here without _being_ here has, perhaps, confused my body.  Do you understand?"  His cheeks warmed at his next thought.  "Perhaps, ah, my body is trying to, uh, entice you."

     Surprisingly, instead of seeming disbelieving or, worse, disgusted, Thorin seemed thoughtful.  "I had not taken my presence into account.  I have not heard of such a thing occurring before, yet it is not implausible.  If your body is in fact...convinced that I am a suitable heatmate, my proximity is only prolonging your heat.  I don't want to risk your health."

     "I know, and I appreciate your concern, but with current circumstances as they are, we...only have one option."  Finding it difficult to swallow, Bilbo felt his heart beat faster.  How could he say this without ruining one of the best friendships he'd ever had?  He didn't want to put Thorin in a difficult place, but he really didn't want to find out how much his body could take before giving out on him.  They could wait to see if his heat would eventually peter out, but he felt uneasy taking that risk.  And no way was he forcing Thorin out into the snow.  "I know...that this would be asking a lot from you...but, perhaps, you could...help me through my heat.  To see if that would help."

     Thorin's expression was inscrutable, as blank as the pages in one of Bilbo's empty notebooks.  Oh, Yavanna, he's offended him and now Thorin was going to march right out the door, snow be damned, and never come back.  How could he-"

     "Although there are those who are more worthy than I, I would be honored to help you through your heat."

     Stunned, Bilbo knew he looked ridiculous with his mouth gaping open, but come on!  Never before had someone said that to him and truly meant it.  "Thorin, I...thank you.  So much."  He then paused, knowing he had to get this out before his heat addled his mind.  "As I know how important your One is, I do not expect you to bond with me.  And you don't have to worry about any...consequences.  There's an herb I have been taking to prevent conception."  It also helped to ease the nausea that heats could sometimes cause, which was why he took it in the first place right before his cycle began.

     Again, the expression on Thorin's face was unfathomable, but after a brief silence, he nodded.

     They had, perhaps, an hour before his arousal would become impossible to ignore, so Bilbo shooed Thorin out of the room in order to clean himself.  He'd not had a proper bath since the start of his heat, meaning he probably stunk something fierce.  Dipping a washcloth in a basin of soapy water Thorin had provided him, Bilbo wondered at how much better he felt with each swipe of the rag.  There wasn't much he could about his hair, other than comb it, but nonetheless, he relished not feeling like someone's dirty laundry.

     Knowing he probably wouldn't get the opportunity to eat while his heat flared up, Bilbo nibbled on the biscuits Thorin had placed on the tray.  His hands trembled, from exhaustion as much as from nervousness.  He really hoped having Thorin help him through his heat would put an end to it, or else they'd be forced to go out in the snow to find help.

     A hysterical giggle bubbled out of him.  Oh, but just what would the gentlefolk of the Shire think if they knew that Bilbo had allowed an alpha who was a dwarf to help him through his heat?  He could just imagine the looks on their faces.  _Brazen, that young Baggins is_ , they would whisper amongst themselves.  _Never was quite right after his parents passed, shacking up with a dwarf_.

     Perhaps it was the Took in him, but Bilbo found he didn't care what the others would think.  It was his life, dammit, and he was going to live it how he saw fit!

     The desire that had just been a negligible burn in his belly suddenly flared into something hot and bright.  Gasping, he realized that his heat cycle was hitting him sooner than he had thought.  Stumbling towards the bed, he barely managed to shout Thorin's name before tripping face-first into his pillows.  His bedding, usually so soft and comforting, was abrasive against his overly-sensitive skin.  From how long he'd gone through this heat with hardly any reprieve, the first touch from Thorin would probably make him come apart.

     A strangled sound from the doorway gave him pause.  The sudden heady scent of an alpha brought Bilbo's omegan instincts that much closer to control.  Twisting, he saw Thorin standing in the doorway, a stunned expression on his face.

     "Thorin," he moaned, instincts clamoring for him to bring Thorin, his alpha, closer.  "I believe it is, ah, time."

    As he watched (with a salivating mouth,) Thorin undressed.  A surprisingly (for a dwarf) light amount of black hair smattered over a thickly muscled chest.  Gorgeous golden skin stretched over an innumerable amount of muscle.  Thorin's years as a blacksmith had strengthened and toned his body in ways that were unfamiliar to a hobbit.  Daring to look further as more clothing was removed, Bilbo wandered his eyes down a tapering waist and froze as the thin line of hair trailing from Thorin's belly led to a thick patch of dark hair surrounding Thorin's cock.  Mouth suddenly dry, he watched with wide eyes as the shaft, already thick and long, began to rise, thickening until Bilbo almost feared that Thorin would not...fit.  Yet despite that, he felt an intense hunger rise within him.

     "Bilbo..." Thorin trailed off, perhaps a faint note of uncertainty in his voice.

     Realizing how silly they must look, naked and staring at each other, Bilbo reached out his arms, motioning encouragingly for Thorin to come closer.  A few halting steps brought Thorin stumbling onto the bed.  As if soothing a skittish animal, Bilbo gently caressed Thorin's shoulders and nearly gasped at the heat emanating from his body.  He couldn't be in rut...but he could, couldn't he?  After all, being exposed to an unmated omega in heat for several days could, perhaps, induce an unmated alpha into rut.

     Though Thorin's bright blue eyes were slightly glazed, and his pupils were blown wide, he was entirely focused on Bilbo.  Not ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he preened under the attention, Bilbo cupped his hands around Thorin's jaw and slowly brought his face closer.  He moved slowly to allow Thorin time to break out of his hold (what were the rules for this sort of thing?  He wasn't Thorin's One, he was only his friend.  Could they kiss?  Or could they only mate?  There needed to be a rulebook for this sort of thing.  He didn't want to unknowingly cross a line that would bring shame to Thorin's family, or something like that,) yet he was still surprised when their lips met.

     Thorin's mouth moved hesitantly against his own, his lips firm yet soft.  Calloused fingers slid across his bare arms.  Bilbo moaned at the almost too-rough sensation on his oversensitive skin, and it was as if a dam had broken within Thorin.  A hesitant mouth suddenly became devouring, plundering everything Bilbo had to offer, and Bilbo reveled in it.  He met Thorin touch for touch, sliding his tongue against Thorin's and threading his fingers through Thorin's gorgeous mane and tugging.  He received a groan for his efforts, so he did it again.

     Pulling away, only to press hot kisses down across Bilbo's jaw, Thorin trailed his hands from Bilbo's shoulders down to his belly, leaving spark of sharp pleasure in their wake.  Nearly shooting off the bed when a firm hand took hold of his shaft, Bilbo clutched at Thorin's head and loudly moaned.  With each stroke of Thorin's hand, pleasure coursed through his body.  Everything was almost too much, Thorin's mouth, Thorin's hand, Thorin's scent, Thorin's warmth.  He didn't want to come undone without Thorin inside of him.

     Peppering kisses from Thorin's mouth to his ear, Bilbo whispered, "I want you inside of me.  Please."

     There had been a time when he would have blushed and stuttered at even contemplating saying something like that, but now.  Now he seemed to have a new-found courage to tell Thorin what he wanted.

     A deep growl reverberated through Thorin's chest and into Bilbo's where they were pressed together.  Muttering in that secret language of his, Thorin pressed Bilbo back into the bed, running those wonderful hands of his along Bilbo's legs.  Though he felt laid bare underneath Thorin's intense gaze, Bilbo had never felt more safe or, or beautiful.  Whether it was due to his pheromones affecting Thorin or Thorin's rut possibly coming on, there was such a look of hunger in Thorin's eyes that Bilbo felt more slick leak out of him.

     When Thorin reached a hand between Bilbo's legs, bypassing his cock and heading straight for his opening, Bilbo gasped out, "You, you don't need to!  I should be, uh, loose enough with all of the, uh, you know..."  He trailed off, blushing, though who knew why he was.  Embarrassed about sharing what he did to get through his heats, and here he was laying naked and exposed before Thorin about ready to do those very things with him.

     "I will not risk hurting you," Thorin rumbled, voice slow.  "Allow me this, even if it is just for my own peace of mind."

     Unable to find it within himself to deny Thorin, Bilbo nodded and spread his legs.  The first touch of Thorin's finger against his opening, oversensitive and almost sore, made him jolt.  Touches from Thorin seemed to be different from his own, if the way they managed to reduce him to a writing mess in mere moments was anything to go by.  Those lovely, clever fingers knew just how to have him panting and desperate, to tease him until he almost teetered off the edge and to know when just to back off so he didn't.  It was the sweetest torture, and Bilbo loved it.

     There was a need within him to make Thorin feel as good as he felt, so Bilbo obeyed his instincts and reached down to grasp Thorin's cock.  The shaft felt hot, velvety, and thick.  It throbbed, and Bilbo gave it an experimental squeeze.  Thorin's hips bucked and his fingers stilled, before resuming with a fervor.  From there it became as a game, of a sort, to see who could make the other lose control first.  Thorin caressed and stroked and slide deeper inside of Bilbo until the calloused pads of his thick fingers found that little bundle of nerves that made Bilbo keen.  Bilbo retaliated in kind by learning how fast, hard Thorin liked to be stroked, how the skin where his knot would form was especially sensitive, how, if he twisted his hand just right, fat blurbs of seed pearled at Thorin's tip.

     It seemed to go on for an eternity and for no time at all before Thorin pulled his fingers from Bilbo and grasped Bilbo's hand.  "If we continue, I will spill before I am inside you."  Deep heaving breaths, fierce blue eyes, and long black hair a tangled mess, Thorin looked every bit the feral alpha.  Yet, Bilbo felt not afraid; he felt utterly safe.

     He held out his arms.  "Come here, then," he encouraged, bringing Thorin to rest on top of him.  Since this was probably the only time he would be able to do this, with Thorin, he wanted to be able to see his face, to memorize every expression, every nuance for the days to come.

     He drew Thorin into another kiss, keeping it soft even as he felt the head of Thorin's cock nudge at his hole.  Keening as he felt it push passed the first ring of muscle, Bilbo clenched his fingers in Thorin's hair as the shaft continued to slide deep within him until Thorin's hips were flushed against Bilbo's backside.  He hadn't been lying when he had said he was loose enough, for there was barely a twinge of discomfort, but he certainly noticed how thick Thorin felt within him.

     Thorin growled against Bilbo's throat, hands gripping Bilbo's hips tightly enough to probably leave bruises.  Bilbo couldn't help his answering moan.  Adoring having this intimacy with Thorin but needing more, Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin's hips, braced his feet on Thorin's buttocks, and pushed.  Thorin groaned, seeming to sag just a bit, then braced his hands on either side of Bilbo's head.  His eyes narrowed, apparently figuring out what Bilbo was trying to do.

     "Thorin, please!" Bilbo begged, hands reaching up to grip Thorin's biceps.  "I want you to f-fuck me!"

     Thorin traced a finger over Bilbo's lips, a soft smile curving his own.  "I do not think I have ever heard you utter such words."

     "Usually I would not have reason to, but," Bilbo paused, attempting to keep the smirk off his face, "someone is not fulfilling his promise to me."  Nearly laughing at the reproachful look he was given, he instead sucked in a breath when Thorin began thrusting.  He started slow, tortuously dragging his cock along Bilbo's insides, and gradually moved faster, until his hips smacked against Bilbo's backside.

     Bilbo, moaning and panting and being embarrassingly loud, could only hang on for dear life.  He clutched at Thorin, digging his nails into Thorin's back and dragging him down into a desperate kiss.

     The only sounds that could be heard in Bilbo's bedroom were their huffing groans and growls, the squelching of Thorin's cock as it thrust into Bilbo's slick-drenched hole, and the sharp smacking of skin hitting against skin.

     Bilbo wanted it to last forever but knew it could not.  The pleasure burning his body continued to build until the pressure threatened to make him burst.

     "Thorin, oh, oh!" he gasped, rocking with the movement of Thorin's body.  "I'm not going to last much longer!"

     In response, Thorin grasped Bilbo's cock and began to stroke.  It only took a few tugs before Bilbo came with a whine, spilling over Thorin's fingers and onto his own belly.  Thorin was not far behind.  His knot was forming, catching on Bilbo's rim.

     "Come on, Thorin.  Come," Bilbo murmured in Thorin's ear.  Hips losing their steady rhythm, Thorin pushed his knot passed the sore outer ring of muscle of Bilbo's opening and stilled with a drawn-out groan.  The knot swelled until Thorin was well and truly locked within Bilbo.

     Shuddering at the pressure of the knot and the hot feeling of seed coating his insides, Bilbo pressed soft kisses to Thorin's face and ran soothing hands along his back.  He did not know how long they lay there, panting and shaking in the aftermath of their orgasms, but he felt his eyes slowly slide close.  Most likely due to how much his heat had strained him and how now he felt something relax within him, Bilbo allowed the alluring grasp of sleep embrace him before Thorin's knot had even deflated.

~~~~~

     When he woke, it took him a moment of blinking the sleep from his eyes before he realized that the constant thrum of heat was gone.  No more was the unrelenting feeling of arousal.  Though still bone-weary, Bilbo felt so much lighter without the suffocating presence of heat.

     He did not realize he was crying until a calloused thumb brushed beneath his eye and came away wet.

     "Why do you cry?" Thorin murmured, voice rough from sleep.  He lay on his belly beside Bilbo, face turned toward him.

     Taking a few gasping breaths, Bilbo croaked, "It is gone.  My heat, it is gone."  Relief made him laugh and cry, and he probably looked ridiculous to Thorin, but he didn't care.  It was gone!

     A slow smile curved Thorin's mouth, shedding the worry that had clouded his face since Bilbo had called for help.  He cupped a hand around Bilbo's jaw and brought their foreheads together.

     Suddenly needing to show Thorin how grateful he was, Bilbo clasped Thorin's hand tightly and gazed intently into those bright blue eyes.  "You...there are no words to describe how grateful I am that you have helped me.  You are the friend of all friends, dear to my heart.  I...thank you."

     Whispering a mantra of thank you's until Thorin gently shooshed him, Bilbo held tightly onto Thorin until sleep again claimed them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you like.
> 
> There is one more chapter of the "past" left before I return to the "present." Basically, I'll just be giving a somewhat general overview of when/how Bilbo finds out he's pregnant, his pregnancy, and his giving birth. If there is anyone who is interested in more in-depth stories of his pregnancy and even the fauntlings growing up until the point of the beginning of this fic, don't worry. As I've said, I will be making this into a series that will explore this, the different relationships, and anything else anyone might want to see. Just let me know!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin leaves and Bilbo makes a life-changing discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has had a safe and happy holiday (to those who celebrated.) Here is my belated Christmas and New Year present to you all. As I might have mentioned before, this is the last chapter of the "past." The next chapter, which I'm already working on, puts us back into the "present."
> 
> Towards the end, I want to forewarn you that there is a birthing scene; however, it is not very graphic at all. As I've not given birth myself, I don't really feel all that comfortable describing something like that in detail. Also, I don't think going into graphic detail of Bilbo giving birth really fits in with the tone of this story. However, if any mention of labor and birth makes you uncomfortable, you can skip to about the part where Bilbo is naming the fauntlings. 
> 
> Anywho, if there is anything you feel that is missing or that you want to see that I didn't go into detail about, keep in mind that I am making this into a series. I will definitely be adding different side-pieces exploring different things that I haven't gone over in this story. As well, I am very open to requests/prompts of things you guys want to see explored from this universe. Keep in mind that SKWNF is my first priority, and trying to write another story alongside this one will probably make my updates that much further apart (that's just the way I am. I wish I could change it, but I'm trying to be better about how often I write.)
> 
> Again, as always, if you see a mistake, spelling, grammatical, characterization, or otherwise, please tell me! These kinds of things drive me as crazy as they do you!

 

_January 29, 2935 of the Third Age_

_Six Weeks_

 

     Bilbo stood unobtrusively in a corner of the blacksmith's shop, watching as the dwarves finished packing up their things.  Thorin was speaking to the Thain, most likely thanking him for allowing them to do business in the Shire.

     He'd known that this day was coming, but that didn't stop his heart from hurting.  As soon as they were done loading their caravans, Thorin and his kin were returning to the Blue Mountains.  Not a simple jaunt through the woods but weeks of travel.  This would likely be the last time he'd ever see Thorin.  The thought was unbearable.

     Stomach churning, Bilbo forced himself to plaster a friendly smile on his face and nod his head to the dwarves who were giving him nods of farewell.  His stomach had been feeling queasy on and off for the last several days, but he chalked it up to the knowledge that Thorin would be leaving and unlikely to return.

     Before he realized it, the shop was empty and Thorin stood before him.  His breath caught in his throat at the look of pain in Thorin's eyes.

     "Bilbo..." he murmured, pausing to clasp Bilbo's hands within his own and bring their foreheads to together.  "When I had first come to the Shire, I had not expected to find someone who I would consider a friend of my heart, but find you I did.  It pains me tremendously to leave you, but my family needs me.  And I cannot neglect my responsibilities."

     "Thorin, you do not need to explain.  I understand.  I know how important your family is to you and would never ask you to abandon them.  You..."  Trailing off, Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.  "You are my best friend.  You helped me when I needed it and were my rock when I needed something to hang on to.  Know that you will always have a special place in my heart.  I will miss you."

     Pulling his hands from Thorin's, Bilbo reached inside his jacket and pulled out a leather-bound book.  It was smaller than a normal book, more of a journal than anything, and was filled with blank pages.  Dyed a deep blue, the journal had been sitting untouched on one of his bookshelves until its color had caught his attention.  It reminded him of the blue Thorin liked to wear.  In the center of the cover was the stamped outline of an acorn.

    Bilbo handed it to Thorin with a tremulous smile.  "I found this in one of my bookshelves.  It might have belonged to my father or my grandfather, but it's not been used.  When I saw it, I, uh, thought of you."

     Stroking his fingers over the aged leather, Thorin offered his own smile.  "I will treasure it always.  I have brought you a gift, as well."  He pulled something from one of his coat pockets and handed it to Bilbo.  It was a leather cuff with a small, square gold plate attached to the front.  Etched into the gold were sharp angular lines, shaped almost like a crown Bilbo thought, framing four small diamond-shapes.  "It is a symbol of my family," Thorin explained as Bilbo ran a thumb over the engravings.  "You are a part of my family, Bilbo, and...it would honor me if you would accept this token."

     Speechless, Bilbo nodded.  "I am honored to accept it," he said, voice thick with emotion.  Slipping it on, he marveled at how soft the leather felt against his skin.  "It's perfect."

     The thought of never seeing Thorin again was almost too much.  Needing to feel Thorin's arms around him one last time, he flung his own around Thorin and held on tight.  Strong arms encircled him, holding him just as tightly.

     Some selfish part of him, small but loud enough to be heard, wanted to beg Thorin to stay, to reveal his feelings for him and hope that it might spark Thorin's recognition of him as his One.  But the bigger, unselfish part of him could not burden Thorin with that, would not.  So, knowing he had to let him go, Bilbo released Thorin from his arms.

     Reaching up on the tips of his toes, Bilbo placed a chaste kiss on Thorin's brow.  "Be safe in your travels.  I...I will miss you," he murmured.

     Thorin sighed.  "And I you."

     Bilbo followed behind Thorin, but stayed standing within the entryway of the shop.  He watched as Thorin made a motion at the dwarves waiting by the caravans and they began leading their ponies down the road that would lead them out of the Shire.  When there were no more dwarves left in the marketplace, Thorin looked back.  Bilbo offered him a wave, watching him leave until he disappeared from view.  He stood there a long time, earning himself quite a few curious glances.  Finally, when he thought he could remain steady on his feet, he began the long journey back to Bag End.  Perhaps a pot of nice, hot tea would soothe his queasy stomach.

~~~~~

_February 19, 2935 of the Third Age_

_Nine Weeks_

 

     "Bilbo, dear, you're looking a bit peaky," Bell pointed out concernedly.  "Are you feeling all right?"  She was half-turned from the stove where she had been fixing second breakfast to look at Bilbo.

     "I've been feeling a little under the weather," he admitted, knowing it would be useless to lie.  Bell had a good sense of when someone wasn't telling the truth, due to having four mischievous children, most likely.  "Probably trying to fight something off."

     Humming, Bell returned to her cooking, no easy task for sure, what with a mate, four children, and Bilbo to feed.  Bilbo would have felt guilty about imposing, but both Bell and Hamfast had made it clear that he was always welcome.  Besides, he was making himself useful by setting the table.

     "Breakfast is ready!" Bell bellowed, a stunning volume coming from such a petite woman.  In a few short moments, Hamfast was coming in from the front, followed by Hamson and Halfred, who had been doing who knew what, and bringing up the rear was Daisy leading little May by the hand.

     "Good morning, Bilbo!" Hamfast greeted after brushing a kiss on Bell's cheek.  He wrestled the boys into washing their hands and picked up May to blow raspberries on her belly.  Daisy attempted valiantly to rescue her shrieking sister, only to be picked up as well.

     Watching wistfully as the kitchen was filled with laughter, Bilbo smiled and set about helping dish out the food.  The smile fell off his face when Bell handed him the skillet with scrambled eggs, the nauseating smell making him dash for the washroom.  He barely made it in time, his first breakfast deciding to make a reappearance.  Body heaving, he almost feared he would lose more than just half-digested food.

     "Oh, Bilbo," Bell's soft voice murmured.  She helped him stumble out of the washroom when he felt he was done vomiting, guiding him towards their guest bedroom.  After she got him settled on the bed, she left him, though he barely noticed in his efforts to swallow his nausea down.

     A cool glass was placed in his hands.  As he took cautious sips of water, Bilbo glanced up to see Bell sitting on the edge of the bed.  The concern that had colored her pretty face earlier was now worry.

     "How long have you been feeling sick?"

     Finishing his water before replying, knowing he was trying to stall, Bilbo muttered, "A few weeks."

     "Have you had any other symptoms?  Fever?  No appetite?  Diarrhea?"

     With each shake of Bilbo's head, Bell's gaze turned speculative.  "Are you feeling any tenderness, up here?"  She motioned towards her chest.  Hesitantly, Bilbo nodded.  "Is there any bloating?  Have your clothes felt a bit tighter?"  Again, Bilbo nodded.

     Watching with growing alarm as Bell stood and went to close the door, Bilbo felt his stomach turn in fear of what she might say.  She sat down beside him and took his hands within her own.  She was so hesitant, so careful, so unlike herself that Bilbo wasn't so sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

     "Bilbo, you have to know that I am only asking this out of pure love for you, but...your heats are in December, yes?  You told me Thorin had been with you because you had been snowed in.  Did you spend your heat with him?"

     Utterly speechless, Bilbo stared at Bell in shock.  Yes, he had told her that Thorin had been stuck in Bag End for a week because of the snow, but he had made no mention of Thorin helping him through his heat.  What was she getting at?  "Y-yes, I did, but...well, he had to.  My heat, it lasted five days.  We didn't know what was wrong.  We...we guessed that, perhaps, my body was trying to entice him, seeing as we are both unmated, and maybe having him there would help.  Otherwise...I don't know what would have happened.  You're not suggesting...?"

     "It is a possibility.  Your symptoms are very reminiscent of the early stages of pregnancy.  I should know."

     "But-Bell!  That's impossible!  I took my herbs, as I always do.  And besides, how do we even know if children can come from a union between a hobbit and a-a dwarf?"

     Bell held up a hand.  "I am only speculating.  I could very well be wrong.  The only way to know for sure is to use kingsfoil.  Isn't it better to know for sure than to live in such uncertainty?"

     If Bilbo wanted to be completely honest with Bell and himself (which he absolutely _did not_ ,) he really didn't want to know whether he was pregnant or not.  Usually kingsfoil would confirm it, and confirming it would mean he'd have to accept that his life would be irrevocably changed.  He wasn't so sure he could deal with that.

     "Bilbo, if not for yourself, at least do it for me so I won't worry myself sick."  Oh, but how Bell knew to manipulate him!  Damn it all, but he was already nodding his head in reluctant acquiescence.  A relieved smile lit up Bell's face, and she quickly left the bedroom, no doubt going in search of kingsfoil that every garden had.  Though it was a weed, it had the remarkable ability to tell if an omega was pregnant.  All one had to do was chew some up really well, swallow it, wait for half an hour, and pee.  If an omega was pregnant, then their urine would have a green tint to it.  If not, their urine would look normal.  How this was discovered, Bilbo could never begin to guess, but it had yet to be wrong.

     Sooner than he was ready for it, Bell returned with a pinch of kingsfoil.  Having never taken it before, obviously, he was somewhat surprised at its taste.  Its flavor was unique, a bit sweet, a bit tart, and a bit something else Bilbo couldn't put a finger on.  It wasn't bad, really, just different.  He swallowed it down.

     Now they had to wait.

     Knowing he would lose his mind if he just sat there the whole half hour doing nothing but stare at his hands, Bilbo persuaded Bell to allow him to return to breakfast.  Not to eat, as his appetite had not returned, but to busy himself with helping to look after the fauntlings.  Though Daisy and May seemed to have all but forgotten about Bilbo's dash from the kitchen, Hamson and Halfred looked at him curiously.  They said nothing, however, meaning Bell had probably given them a stern talking to.  Bilbo felt grateful, as it gave him a sense of normalcy, if only for a little while.

     It was as they were finishing cleaning up breakfast that Bell sent him a pointed look.  Sighing, but nodding, Bilbo dragged his feet towards the washroom, the churning nausea slowly crawling its way up his throat.  He wasn't ready.  He doubted he would ever be ready, but Bell was right.  It was better to know than to live in uncertainty and stress and leave himself unprepared if he truly was pregnant.  As he went about his business, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to look down.  Not just yet.

     Long after he had finished and tucked himself away, Bilbo continued to stare up at the ceiling.  _Just a few more moments_ , he told himself, _then I'll look_.  Bell would come barging in if she felt he was taking too long, no doubt, so he took a few fortifying breaths and forced himself to look down.

     Shock and disbelief warred against each other, a tumultuous storm within Bilbo that left him gasping for breath.  He couldn't breathe!

     Soft hands cradled his face and directed him against a softer body.  He hadn't realized he was shaking until a pair of arms encircled him and held him tight.  Taking deep, huffing breaths against Bells' neck (for who else would it be?  Hamfast had left to head down to the marketplace and the fauntlings were out playing,) her warm, soothing omega scent doing wonders to calm him down.

     "It's all right, Bilbo.  It's all right.  I have you," Bell was murmuring against Bilbo's brow, a gently litany that soothed him, but not enough to stop the tears.

     "Bell...what am I going to do?" he choked out.  "Thorin is gone and I'm by myself.  I don't know what to do!"

     "You are not alone, though," Bell replied, pushing him back far enough so she could look into his eyes.  "No matter your choice, Ham and I will support you."

     "Choice...?"

     "Yes.  You have a couple of...options.  One is you keep the babe and raise it.  Another is to allow someone else to adopt it.  A third option is to..." Despite her earlier proclamation, Bell seemed hesitant.  "Is to...end your pregnancy.  Now, before the babe is born."

     Horror made Bilbo recoil.  "E-end the pregnancy?  You mean...?  But...Bell!"

     "I know, Bilbo, but sometimes...that is...necessary.  You have to decide what is right for you.  Whatever your choice, know that Ham and I will help you in any way we can."

     Pulling away from Bell, Bilbo lost himself in his thoughts.  He pulled at his hair.  He muttered underneath his breath.  He paced the small space of the washroom.  What should he do?  As much as this would change his life, he could not even imagine ending this pregnancy.  Though he had heard of a few cases of this being down out of necessity, mostly of Men, he didn't think he could do it himself.

     That meant he'd go through with the pregnancy, but could he keep the babe or have to give it to someone else?  More than likely, as with most hobbit pregnancies, there were at least two.  Fauntlings were a lot of work and responsibility as it was, but being by himself?  Perhaps it would be better to give the fauntlings to someone who could handle them and give them the proper attention they'd deserve.

     The though almost made him growl.  Whether it was his omega instinct or purely him, but he did not like the thought of someone else raising his children.  Not one bit.

     _Well_ , Bilbo supposed, _that decides it._

~~~~~

_June 4, 2935 of the Third Age_

_Twenty-four Weeks_

 

     Standing in the threshold of the guest bedroom-turned-nursery, Bilbo felt quite proud of himself.  Now that he was half-way through his pregnancy, he'd been overcome with the need to make his children's room just right.  They called it nesting, though it didn't look like a nest and Bilbo didn't feel like a bird.  He wanted to provide his children with all of the love and warmth and happiness he had received as a child.  It was going to be tough, he knew, as he would be raising his fauntlings by himself.  Bell and Hamfast could only help so much, seeing as they had their own family.  

     The desire for Thorin to be there, to experience everything, to know his children hit Bilbo once again.  He'd tried contacting Thorin not too long after he'd found out about the pregnancy, but he'd not had much luck.  Despite having once been a highly used trading post, Bree didn't see very many dwarves.  Bilbo had tried, he really had, but each time he had visited the town, there had been no dwarves and no one who would be traveling to the Blue Mountains.  He'd even toyed with the idea of perhaps making the journey himself, but had quickly discarded it.  The roads were dangerous, especially for an unmated, pregnant hobbit traveling by himself.  Also, the thought of a possible early labor did not entice him.  At all.  

      _Perhaps_ , he thought to himself, _perhaps when the faunts are, say, just come of age, we'll make the journey._

     A sharp kick right beneath his ribs made him wince.  "Hush, now," he chided, rubbing a hand over the tender spot.  "I know you don't have very much room in there, but that doesn't mean you should punish me for it.  I can't very well change my size, you know."  Another kick, this time on the opposite side of the first.  "Oh, no!  Not you, too!  It's not fair, you know, ganging up on your poor mother like that."  Despite his stern tone, Bilbo grinned and caressed his belly.  "Tell you what, once you're here, you'll have all of the space you want to run around.  How's that sound?"  

     Glancing around the nursery one last time, Bilbo felt satisfied, though it wasn't yet finished.  Until he have birth, there was no telling how many cribs he'd need.  He already had the one he had used as a baby and he was in the process of making one himself, just in case.  With how big his belly had gotten and all of the activity going on within, he guessed that here might be three babies.  Or one very active, very _large_ babe.

     Making his way back to the kitchen for luncheon (he did not waddle, thank you very much!) he began talking to his babies again.  "I don't know how your father was as a baby, but I reckon you're taking after me.  Which, if your grandmother were with us, she'd tell you it's only what I deserve.  Apparently, I was a menace while she was pregnant.  Moving, kicking at all hours, never letting her have a moment's peace."  A laugh bubbled out, making him pause where he'd been getting some cheese from the pantry.  "She told me she had been very sure she was having at least five fauntlings and was therefore very surprised when she gave birth to only one.  She said..."  Tears pricked at his eyes, though he smiled.  "She said it was all worth it, the discomfort, the exhaustion, once she saw me.  She'd do it all over again, a hundred times, if it mean she got me."

     Maneuvering himself into a chair, Bilbo breathed in deeply and laid both hands on his swollen belly.  "I love you very much and everything...everything is worth having you.  I can't wait to meet you and hold you in my arms."

~~~~~

  _September 22, 2935 of the Third Age_

_Thirty-Nine Weeks and Five Days_

 

     "Happy birthday, Bilbo!  Make a wish!"

     Chuckling at his guests' enthusiasm, Bilbo leaned closer to the candle-lit cake and closed his eyes.

     _Hmm...what should I wish for_ , he mused. _Perhaps I should wish for this pregnancy to be over.  I'm as big as a smial!  No, I really wish for Thorin_ _to be here, but that would take a miracle.  No, what I wish for is for my babies to be healthy and happy and to know that I love them with all of my heart_.

     Sucking in a deep breath (he had forty-five candles to blow out, you know,) Bilbo blew with all of his might.  All but a few candles went out, so he motioned for Bell and Hamfast's children to help.  They took to it with gusto, probably getting more spit on the cake than anything, but it got the job done.  Bilbo laughed and clapped his hands with everyone else, pushing his chair back from the table to let Bell in to cut the cake.

     It was as he was standing that a sharp cramp made him gasp.

     "Bilbo!  Are you okay?"

     Nodding even as he was trying to catch his breath, Bilbo rubbed his belly.  "Y-yes, just a cramp.  I'm all right."

     A gush of liquid soaking the seat of his pants and another gasp belied his words.

     "Why didn't you tell me you were having contractions?" Bell admonished, steering Bilbo towards his bedroom.

     "Co-contractions?  I just thought I was having backaches.  Does that mean...?"

     "Yes, Bilbo, your babies are coming," Bell agreed, helping Bilbo unbutton his shirt.  "Now let's get you ready.  Ham's went to go get the midwife."

     "Bell...I don't know if I'm ready for this."  Nervousness decided to rear its ugly head.  Bilbo wanted his fauntlings so badly, but he feared he'd make a mess of things.  "I want Thorin!"

     "Bilbo Baggins!" Bell snapped.  She helped ease him onto the bed.  "Don't you dare doubt yourself!  You're going to be a wonderful mother.  Don't let what Lobelia and the others have said make you think otherwise.  I know that you'll be the best mother those fauntlings could ever ask for."  Her tone then softened.  "I know you want Thorin to be here.  He should be here, but he isn't, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.  Okay?"

     "Okay," Bilbo whispered.  He groaned as another contraction gripped him painfully.  Clutching Bell's hand, he was incredibly grateful she was here, even if she wasn't Thorin.

     One more contraction hit him before Hamfast was back with the midwife and her assistant, two omegas who looked and acted like they'd overseen their fair share of births.  Their scents, combined with Bell's familiar one, helped to soothe him.

     The thing about giving birth, Bilbo began to realize, was that it put you into a sort of haze.  With his contractions coming closer and closer together and the shifting of the babes inside him, the pain made him lose focus on his surroundings.  He was barely aware of Bell holding his hand and the midwife giving him instructions.  If asked, Bilbo would not be able to say how long his labor lasted.  It was punctuated by sharp bouts of pain.

     "The head is crowning!" the midwife exclaimed.  "Bilbo, I need you to push."

     The instinct to push was impossible to ignore, so Bilbo pushed.  Groaning and squeezing Bell's hand, Bilbo pushed and pushed until suddenly there was a baby's shrill cry.  "A boy!"  He laughed with pure joy.

     "My baby, I want my baby.  Where is my baby?" he demanded.

     "It's all right, Bilbo.  They're just cleaning him up.  You'll get him soon," Bell explained as she wiped the sweat from Bilbo's brow.

     "It looks like your fauntlings are eager to meet you," the midwife commented.  "I already see the second one's head."

     Bilbo didn't know whether to count himself lucky or not, for all of his babies were eager to be born.  There was hardly a moment's rest before the midwife was declaring that another one was coming.  Soon his bedroom was filled with the cacophony of babies squalling and him groaning.

     It was not until all four (four!  Sweet Yavanna!) babes were nestled within his exhausted embrace that they calmed, perhaps sensing that their mother would keep them safe.

     "Oh, look at all of you!" Bilbo crooned, drinking in the sight of his precious fauntlings.  "Such handsome little boys!"  Sure, their faces were red and scrunched, but they were absolutely gorgeous.

     "Now it's time for names," Bell pointed out, a bright smile on her face despite the fact her hand must have felt completely numb.

     "Ah, yes, names."  Bilbo hummed in thought.  He'd had a few names picked out, now he just had to decide which ones fit each of his sons.

     "This one here is your oldest," Bell said, pointing to the babe resting on Bilbo's right on the outer side.

     "I think...I shall name you...Samwise."  He had thick swirls of reddish-gold hair matted on his head.

     "This one was next."  She pointed to the one laying on Bilbo's left, right up against his side.

     "Hmm.  I think...Meriadoc."  Thick tufts of golden hair stuck up every which way on his soft little head.

     "Then this one."  He slept next to Samwise.

     "Peregrin...yes, that sounds perfect."  His curls were the same shade as Bilbo's.

     That left the little one next to Meriadoc.  Unlike his older brothers, his tufts of hair were black, like Thorin's.  "You look like a Frodo to me."

     After placing a kiss atop his sweaty head, Bell left him to bond with his sons.  He studied them from head to toe, memorizing every little nuance.  He breathed in their fresh scents.  Their scents would not change to indicate their dynamics until they were a little older.  There were no obvious signs that would show them to be half dwarf, though.  Bilbo had no idea what infant dwarves looked like.  Samwise was a little bigger than his brothers, but that could have been pure coincidence.

     Oh, how Thorin should have been here bonding with his sons!

     "I promise you," Bilbo told his fauntlings, shifting them closer, "you will know love and happiness and home.  You will know your father, though he isn't here.  And somehow, someway, I will make sure he knows you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a big nerd, I actually researched a bit about what someone who is pregnant with quadruplets would like. I came across a little diagram that gave the typical length of a pregnancy based on how many fetuses there are. A quadruplet pregnancy seems to, perhaps, typically last thirty weeks and each infants weighs about two point nine pounds. Uh, yeah, that doesn't quite work for my timeline, so I'm working under the assumption that hobbits have incredibly easy pregnancies and typically go almost all the way to the end (which is nine months, I've decided.) Being as it is typical for this universe's omega hobbits to have big litters quite frequently, I think that this is safe to assume.
> 
> Oh, oh! I also discovered a new kink that I'll explore between Thorin and Bilbo once this fic is done with. I discovered it while watching the Battle of the Five Armies (the feels, man, the feels!) and I think you guys will enjoy it. There are probably other fics out there with this kink, but oh well.
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos, if you like!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin do Maury, Middle Earth style!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you know? Two updates in the same month! I'm just waiting for the world to end, but until then, enjoy!
> 
> We're back to the present! This is a little shorter than the rest; as I was writing, I realized that about half of what I was writing was better off as a different chapter (don't ask me why, I'm weird like that.) Good news is, I already have the next chapter half-written. May not necessarily mean it will be posted very soon, but that means it will be posted sooner than usual.
> 
> See any mistakes, let me know!

_April 26, 2941 of the Third Age_

 

     "Bilbo?"

     There were more creases lining his face and streaks of silver threading through his dark hair, but that was undoubtedly Thorin.  He looked...as breathtakingly beautiful as he had six years ago, perhaps even more so.

     "Thorin?  How-?  W-what are you doing here?" Bilbo stammered.  "How do you know Gandalf?"

     "Gandalf has been a...friend of my family's for many years," Thorin explained, looking at him quizzically.  "I did not know you knew him, as well.  I'm, _we're_ here because Gandalf has called a meeting.  Did you not know this?  There is a mark upon your door."

     "Mark?  There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" Bilbo exclaimed, indignant, though he wasn't sure at whom.

     "There is a mark, I put it there myself," Gandalf interjected.  He didn't even have the good grace to look repentant!  "I hadn't realized you already knew Thorin Oakenshield."

     "We met a few years ago when I led a business expedition here to the Shire," Thorin explained, thankfully leaving out the part where they had spent a heat together.

     Stomach dropping all of the way to his toes, Bilbo suddenly remembered the four products of that union.  He wasn't ready to introduce them!  How was he going to explain to Thorin why he hadn't tried harder to contact him?  How was Thorin going to react to Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo?  Happy?  Angry?  Would he accept them, or reject them?  His fauntlings would not be able to handle that.  He would not be able to handle that.

     However, it looked like it was going to happen whether he was ready for it or not, for Gandalf was very insistent on moving them to the dining room.

     Steeling himself, Bilbo caught Thorin giving him a confused look.  It hit him then what it must have appeared to Thorin, Bilbo treating him almost as an unexpected, unwelcome guest.  Unexpected, yet.  Unwelcome, no.  Despite the knowledge that he would have to introduce Thorin to his sons, he was still very glad to see him.

     "Thorin," he murmured right before they reached the dining room, "I apologize for my rudeness.  I _am_ glad to see you.  It's just that...your dwarves are exhausting!  You're lucky there's still a little food left for you!  They've completely wiped out my pantry!  And destroyed my plumbing!"

     Brow raised, Thorin inclined his head.  "I will speak with them.  They are good dwarves, if a bit...rough around the edges.  However, they should have treated you with more respect."

     Smiling gratefully, Bilbo gently grasped Thorin's arm before they entered the dining room.  "Thorin," he murmured.  "There is something I must tell you.  I, uh-"

     "Mama!" four little voices exclaimed.  "Kíli showed us this neat trick!  You have to-"

     His sons' excited chattering became muted as Bilbo felt his heart stutter.  Completely still beside him, Thorin was as emotionless as a statue.

     "Boys," Bilbo interrupted, voice cracking a bit.  He cleared his throat.  "Boys, please wait in the dining room.  There is...someone I want you to meet, but I must speak with him first.  Can you do that for me?"

     Though he could he see they were confused, his sons blessedly nodded and turned back to the dining room.  Heart in his throat, Bilbo glanced back at Thorin, whose expression had not changed.  Not knowing what to make of that, he tugged on Thorin's arm.  "Let's go to study.  There is something very important I must tell you."  When Thorin didn't move, Bilbo softly pleaded, "Thorin...please."

     He received a jerky nod.  The few steps needed to reach the study seemed to take an eternity, but made it they did.  Motioning for Thorin to sit in one of the armchairs, Bilbo braced himself for an uncomfortable conversation.

     "Those are...your children?"  Thorin's voice was halting, gravelly.

     "Yes."

     "Congratulations are in order, then.  Your mate?"

     "I don't have one.  Thorin, I..."  Why was this so damned difficult?  "Remember when you h-helped me through my heat, I told you that we didn't have to worry about any...consequences?  That I was taking an herb to prevent conception?  Well, it didn't work as well as I had thought."  Here it came.  Once he said it, it could never be unsaid.  But he had to tell Thorin, he deserved that much.  Making sure to hold Thorin's gaze, he said, "They are yours, Thorin.  They are your sons."

     The ensuing silence was deafening, and the longer Thorin remained silent, the more Bilbo began to panic.  All expression seemed to have left Thorin's face.

     Then, in a flurry of movement, Thorin stood and began pacing the small space of the study.  Exhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand over his face, he opened his mouth, as if to say something, only to abruptly close it.  He did this for several tense moments before finally coming to a standstill before Bilbo.

     "How?" he croaked, blue eyes shining with a myriad of emotions Bilbo couldn't discern.

     "I...I don't know," Bilbo replied with a helpless shake of his head.  "Perhaps the effects of the herbs wore off after three days.  It was...unexpected."

     "When did you find out?"

     "In February."  Sighing, Bilbo shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  He couldn't tell what Thorin was thinking, which only made his anxiety grow.  It was a leaden weight in his belly.  "Thorin, you have to know that I tried to find some way to send you the news, but no one was traveling to the Blue Mountains.  I...I would have made the journey myself, but I couldn't risk..."  He made vague motions towards his belly.  "I'm sorry.  You should have been here...I wanted you here.  I-I should have tried harder to contact you.  I should have-"

     Utterly surprising Bilbo, Thorin strode towards him and grasped the sides of his face with calloused hands.  "Bilbo, no.  Do not fret.  I know you would have tried everything you could."  Seeming to deflate, he closed his eyes and gently rested his brow against Bilbo's.  "I never truly expected to have children of my own.  After the fall, my only concern was protecting my people.  Forgive me my speechlessness.  As unexpected as this is, I cannot help but feel...blessed.  You know that we dwarves hold our children sacred.  Despite...well, know that I am truly humbled that you have given me such gifts."

     Hating himself for asking this, but knowing he must lest he risk heartache for him and his sons, Bilbo cautiously inquired, "What about your One?"

     Thorin stepped back, but only so far as to hold Bilbo's gaze.  "If I were to find them, they will just have to live with the fact that my children are more precious to me than anything."

     Nearly collapsing in his relief, Bilbo smiled as the last bits of anxiety evaporated.  This was more than he could have ever hoped for.  His sons could know their father.

     "Bilbo...there is something I must tell you," Thorin murmured...hesitantly?  So unfamiliar was the sight of uncertainty in Thorin's eyes that Bilbo almost didn't recognize it.  "I was not entirely...truthful when I was here last.  I was not just the leader of the caravans that came here six years ago.  I am also...the prince of Erebor.  Or was, but my people still view me as such though we longer inhabit Erebor."

     Uncomprehending, Bilbo stared at Thorin, gaping and willing himself to understand what Thorin had just said.  Prince?  Thorin was a prince?  Then that meant...he immediately veered away from that course of thought.

     "You must understand, when I had first come to the Shire, I had no plans of...becoming close to anybody.  A temporary business venture, no need to make lasting friendships.  Then I met you, and...well, it might seem foolish to you, but I wanted you to like me as me, as Thorin the blacksmith, not Thorin, Prince Under the Mountain.  I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but old habits die hard.  Before Erebor had fallen, the only ones I could truly trust were my family and close friends.  Everyone else at court only seemed to see my title."  Smiling sadly, Thorin murmured, "It was...nice to know that you considered me friend because of me, not my title.  I am sorry, Bilbo.  I'm sorry I was dishonest with you, but I'm not sorry that it brought me your friendship...and my sons."

     As he fiddled with the straps of his suspenders, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to be upset.  It was a shock, of course, to learn that the dwarf he was in love with was a prince, but then again, it was no more shocking than that dwarf learning he was the father of four five-year-old boys.

     "I...I suppose I can understand that," he said slowly.  Then he huffed a laugh.  "If there's one thing I can say for certain, it is that this night has been full of enlightenment.  Any more big secrets you need to share?  While we're at it, we might as well get everything off of our chests." 

     Thorin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.  "No, I don't think I do."

     They shared grins, and it was as if Thorin had never been gone.

     "After I had given birth, I made a promise to my...our sons.  That even though their father wasn't here, I would make sure they knew him.  And I did.  I told them everything I knew about you, that you were kind and generous and one of the best alphas I have ever known.  And I think it's time for you to know your sons.  Would you like to meet them?"

     There it was again!  That uncertainty which had no place twisting Thorin's handsome face.  "They love you, Thorin.  They may not know you as much as they should, but they do love you."

     Though Bilbo could see that there was still a hesitancy shining in his blue eyes, Thorin nodded.  Giving a reassuring smile, Bilbo turned and hurried towards the dining room, happiness threatening to make him burst.  He ignored the curious looks of the dwarves and beckoned his sons with an eager hand.

     "There is someone very important I want you to meet," he told his sons, kneeling before them.  He couldn't help but smooth back Pippin's unruly hair and wipe the crumbs from around Sam's mouth, his elation making him fidgety.

     "Who is it, Mama?" Merry asked, looking around Bilbo eagerly.

     Drinking in the sight of his little boys, Bilbo knew their lives would be forever changed.  He stood, uncaring of their audience, and gently pushed his sons towards the study.  His heart pounded heavily in his chest, though this time for a different reason.

     As he shuffled the boys into the study, smiling at their curious chattering.  Bilbo noticed that Thorin was still where he had left him, standing in the center of the study.  The moment the boys walked in, Thorin went stock still, though his eyes flitted between each of them, as if he couldn't take them in fast enough.  Never before had he seen someone look so...overwhelmed (though, if he thought about it, he probably had had the same look on his face when he saw his sons for the first time.)

     "Thorin, I want you to meet our sons," Bilbo began, standing behind the boys.  He placed a hand atop Sam's head.  "This is Samwise.  He's the oldest, and one of the sweetest little alphas you'll ever meet."

     Sam grumbled at that, though he bowed as Bilbo had taught him and his brothers.  Even as overwhelmed as Thorin appeared to be, he bowed back.

     "This is Meriadoc-"

     "It's Merry, Mama!" Merry interjected, looking up at him indignantly.

     Chuckling, Bilbo corrected himself.  "I'm sorry- _Merry_.  A mischievous omega who likes to keep everyone on their toes.  Especially me."

     Moving his hand to lay it upon Pippin's head, Bilbo noticed with fond amusement as Pippin puffed himself up.  "This is Peregrin-ah, Pippin," he corrected when Pippin started turning his head.  "Another omega.  He and Merry are as thick as thieves, and I mean that literally.  They have a fondness for pilfering Farmer Maggot's crops."  Both Merry and Pippin looked at Bilbo in horror, having not realized he knew of their exploits.  Though, they always shared their bounty wit Sam and Frodo, so Bilbo never saw any reason to say anything.  They never took that much, and besides, Maggot could do with a little excitement (he still hadn't figured out who was stealing some of his crops.  Bilbo would never admit it out loud, but he was quite proud of Merry and Pippin's...resourcefulness.)

     "And here is our youngest, Frodo," Bilbo said, squeezing Frodo's shoulder.  "An omega, as well, he loves his stories and is becoming quite the little scholar."

     The tops of Frodo's ears pinked, always so shy when under the scrutiny of those he didn't know.

     "Boys," Bilbo murmured, voice soft, "I want you to meet Thorin, prince of Erebor, and...your father."

     He was prepared for the onslaught of exclamations and questions.  Thorin was not, though he held up admirably.

     "This is our papa?" Merry asked, eyes lit up with tentative joy.  "The one you told us about?"

     "Really?"  Frodo's small voice, so filled with hope, made Bilbo want to scoop him up and never let him down.

     "Yes, boys.  Thorin is your father.  He is here now."

     Probably deciding that was their signal, all four boys launched themselves towards Thorin, nearly tackling him to the floor.

     "We missed you!"

     "I'm so glad you're here!"

     "Maybe when I'm older you can show me how to blacksmith."

     "Oh, I want to show you this new trick Kíli taught us!"

    The image of Thorin kneeling on the ground, arms tight around his sons, eyes bright with unshed tears, would be one forever etched in Bilbo's memory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I wrote Bilbo and Thorin's reactions as close to character as possible, at least how I think they would react in this sort of situation.
> 
> Leave a kudos or comment, if you'd like!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company discusses the quest and Bilbo has to decide if it is worth going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world must really be ending-another chapter in a week. Don't get used to it because it may never happen again.
> 
> Since today is my birthday, I wanted to partake in the hobbit tradition and give you all a present-another chapter! Much of this chapter is taken from the movie; it is the scene where the dwarves are discussing the quest. Anything that is recognizable obviously belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson and his crew. However, there are also some differences and things that are said or not said in the movie might not be said or will be said in this fic....that sounded better in my head. Oh well.
> 
> If you see any errors, grammatical or otherwise, let me know!

 

     The dining room was utterly silent.  Every single occupant, dwarf and wizard alike, stared gob smacked at Thorin, some disbelieving and some simply confused.  Though it probably made him petty, Bilbo relished their bewilderment.  He felt it was the least they deserved for so rudely disrupting his and the boys' supper.

     "Thorin," the one called Kíli said slowly, eyes big and brown and looking so woeful that Bilbo almost renounced his uncharitable thoughts.  Almost.  "You never told us you...mated and sired children when you visited the Shire.  Why didn't you tell us?"

     "The circumstances were...complicated," Thorin explained vaguely, looking slightly guilty.  "Bilbo and I are not mated..."  Here he looked hesitant.  "I did not know I had sired children until tonight."

     The dining room erupted into chaos, dwarves shouting and cursing in outrage.  Bilbo would have been impressed with their loyalty to Thorin if he hadn't been on the wrong side of it.

     "Silence!" Thorin roared, standing protectively in front of Bilbo.  "Do not blame Bilbo.  He had not realized he was pregnant until after I left.  He told me he had tried to get the news to me but had been unable to, and I believe his sincerity.  He is _khuzshumenkurdu_ and he will have your respect!"

     A stunned silence followed.  Bilbo wasn't sure who was more surprised, the dwarves or himself.  Then, carefully, the blond one (Fíli?) stood and moved to stand before Thorin.

     "Apologies, uncle," he murmured with a subservient bow.  He tilted his head to the side, baring his neck to Thorin.  Although he smelled like an alpha, like his uncle, his posture was purely submissive.  Cautiously he looked over Thorin's shoulder to meet Bilbo's gaze.  "Bilbo Baggins, you have our sincerest apologies.  I and my kin welcome you and your sons to our family."

     Aware of all the eyes upon him, Bilbo fidgeted nervously before inclining his head.  Taking that as their cue, the dwarves returned to their boisterous activity, although slightly more subdued than earlier.  By gradual increments Thorin's body relaxed, and he clasped Fíli's shoulder.  Motioning Kíli over with a hand, Thorin turned to face Bilbo.

     "Bilbo, it would honor me for you to meet my nephews," he said, a hand grasping Fili and Kíli's shoulders.  "This is Fíli and Kíli.  Fíli, Kíli, this is Bilbo and these are my sons Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo."

     "No wonder they smelled so familiar!" Kíli exclaimed. He grinned down at the boys.  "None of us could figure it out, but now it makes sense.  Cousins!"

     From what Thorin had told him about his nephews and the brief time he had been around them, Bilbo wasn't so sure it was a good idea for his sons to have any interactions with Fíli and Kíli.  At all.  As bad as Merry and Pippin were already, Bilbo didn't even want to begin imagining what they'd become with Fíli and Kíli's influence.

     Perhaps Thorin realized the same thing, for he sternly pushed his nephews back to their seats.  "We must return to the matter at hand.  Gandalf has called a meeting and we must delay it no further."

     "News from the meeting in Ered Luin?" the one called Balin inquired as soon as Thorin sat down and began to eat from the bowl Bilbo had set before him.  "Did they all come?"

     "Aye," Thorin answered.  "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

     The dwarves were evidently pleased from the way they chuckled and grinned at each other.

     "What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked solemnly.  "Is Dain with us?"

     Features turning regretful, Thorin replied, "They will not come."  Bilbo wondered who this Dain was that it made the dwarves so disappointed to hear he was not coming.  "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

     "You're...going on a quest?" Bilbo couldn't help but ask.  Thorin wasn't supposed to leave, not so soon!  Not when his sons were finally given the chance to know their father!

     "Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf said, clearing his throat, "let us have a little more light."

     Narrowing his eyes at Gandalf, Bilbo stepped out into the hallway to grab a candle.  He moved to stand beside Thorin, bringing the candle to illuminate the map Gandalf laid out on the table.

     "Far to the east," Gandalf began, "over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

     "The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read out loud.  The map was unlike any other he had seen of Middle Earth.  It only depicted the Lonely Mountain and a few surrounding landmarks.  Dwarven runes lay beneath a hand pointing towards the mountain.

     "Aye," the dwarf with the impressive fiery red hair and beard agreed.  "Óin has read the portents and the portents say it is time."  A few of the dwarves sitting beside him groaned and rolled their eyes.

     "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain," another dwarf, Óin, perhaps, explained, "as it was foretold.  When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

     "Uh, what beast?" Bilbo asked concernedly.

     "Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," the dwarf with the interesting hat replied.  "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks.  Extremely fond of precious metals-"

     "Yes, I know what a dragon is!" Bilbo interrupted, irritation making his voice sharp.  He stared at Thorin.  "A dragon?  What sort of quest is this?"

     "Bilbo, have you never heard of the fall of Erebor?" Thorin inquired bemusedly.

     "Well, yes-"

     "Smaug came to Erebor to claim my grandfather's treasure.  He slaughtered thousands of my people and forced the rest to flee for their lives.  We," Thorin's eyes darted to Gandalf's for a brief moment, "decided it is time we reclaim our homeland."

     "I'm not afraid!" a small dwarf piped up, standing from his chair.  "I'm up for it.  I'll give him a taste of the dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!"

     As the dwarf was pulled down by another, older dwarf with some very intricate braids and was promptly scolded for his brazenness, Bilbo couldn't help but feel some sort of amusement, for it was often that Merry, Pippin, and Frodo were subjugated to the same treatment by Sam.

     "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin pointed out.  "But we're numbered just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best...nor brightest."

     Their indignant murmurs made the dwarves sound like angry bees.  Bilbo was surprised to hear such things from Balin, as he seemed to be the more diplomatic one out of the bunch (especially compared to his brother.)

     Fíli hit the table with his fist, glancing between the dwarves with determination.  "We may be few in number, but we're fighters.  All of us.  To the last dwarf!"

     "And do you forget?  We have a wizard in our company!" Kíli added enthusiastically.  "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

     Taking a vindictive glee in watching Gandalf sputter and cough as the dwarves looked at him expectantly, Bilbo thought it was high time Gandalf was taken down a peg.  Then he became concerned as the dwarves began shouting at each other, standing from their chairs and shaking their fists at each other.  Potent alpha pheromones mixed agitatedly with the sweeter pheromones of omega.

     Just as Bilbo was about ready to scoop up his sons and flee to safety, Thorin shot to his feet.  " _Shazara_!"  Immediately the dwarves quieted.  "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?  Rumors have begun to spread.  The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years.  Eyes look east to the mountain," he said somberly, "assessing, wondering, weighing the risk.  Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours?  Or do we seize this chance take back Erebor?   _Du_ _bekâr_! _Du bekâr_!"

Bilbo could see why these dwarves would follow Thorin; his passion was contagious.  But how were they going to deal with the dragon?

 "You forget.  The front gate is sealed," Balin reminded them, apparently the voice of reason.  "There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf interjected, "is not entirely true."  Reaching inside his grey robes, he pulled out a key and handed it over to Thorin.

     Wonder crossed Thorin's face, though Bilbo thought there was a little suspicion, as well.  "How came you by this?"

     "It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safe-keeping.  It is yours now."

     "If there is a key, there must be a door," Fíli pointed out rather superfluously.

     Pointing at the runes on the map with his pipe, Gandalf explained, "These runes speak of a hidden passage in the lower halls."

     "There's another way in!" Kíli exclaimed excitedly.  If this was a trait common within Thorin's family, Bilbo fervently hoped stating the obvious would skip his fauntlings.

     "Well, if we can find it, but the dwarf doors are invisible when closed.  The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and...I do not have the skill to find it.  But there are other in Middle Earth who can."  Was Bilbo hallucinating, or did Gandalf just admit he didn't know something?  "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage.  But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

     "That's why we need a burglar," the young dwarf (Bilbo thought Fíli had called him Ori) said matter-of-fact.

     Bilbo hummed.  "A good one, too.  An expert, I'd imagine."  Especially if they were going to try to get passed a dragon.

     "And are you?" the red-haired dwarf asked.

     Wait, was he talking to Bilbo?  "Am I what?"

     "He said he's an expert!" Óin exclaimed with a joyful laugh.

     "M-me? No, nononono," Bilbo adamantly denied.  "I'm not a burglar.  I've never stolen a thing in my life."  Was this what Gandalf had planned when he had been spouting off about adventures?  He turned and jabbed a finger at Gandalf.  "I told you that I cannot go on an adventure!  In case you have forgotten, I have children!  I can't just go running off into the blue.  I have no one to watch them and I refuse to take them anywhere near a dragon."

     "You knew he had children?" Thorin asked incredulously.  His tone turned accusing.  "And you still asked him along?"

     "Those are our baby cousins!" Kíli yelled, outraged.

     "Enough!" Gandalf boomed, voice filling the room.  As he stood, he seemed to grow taller, looming over everyone as the room darkened.  "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is."  Suddenly, he returned to normal.  "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet.  In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose.  And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.  You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins."  Gandalf turned his gaze to Bilbo.  "I would never willingly put children in harm's way.  In light of your relationship with Thorin, I do believe a solution has presented itself.  Thorin, what if Dís were to come here to look after your children?  They would be safe and under the care of someone you trust."

      Why was Gandalf so insistent?  Why him, why _Bilbo_?  Dís might have been Thorin's sister and a relation to the boys, but he couldn't simply leave them for a quest that would last who knew how long.  It wasn't that easy.

     "Mama, what's an adventure?" Sam inquired, tugging on Bilbo's sleeve.

     "Whatever it is, I want to come with you," Merry stated with a decisive nod.

     "Yeah, we want to come, too!" Pippin exclaimed, never one to be left behind.

     "All right!  It's time for bed!"  It was difficult enough knowing Thorin was going to deal with a dragon (as if it was merely a pest,) but he refused to let this nonsense endanger his children.  Nudging them down the hallway, Bilbo steadfastly ignored their grumbled complaints and pouting glares.

     "But Mama!"  Merry's protests were muffled by the shirt pulled over his head.  His indignant pout was made all that more ridiculous by the riotous mess his curls were in.

     "No buts," Bilbo replied firmly.  He would not be swayed by four pairs of beautiful blue eyes (so much like Thorin's.)  "It is way passed your bedtime.  If I find even one of you out of this bed, there will be no cookies for a week."

     Reluctantly nodding as they climbed into bed, his sons watched him as he tucked them in.

     "Does this mean Papa is going away again?" Frodo asked, which just about broke Bilbo's heart.

     Bilbo sighed and sat down on the side of their bed.  "Yes, this means Papa is going away again.  But, he will come back.  He loves you and would miss you too much."

     "Do you promise?"

     Above all else, Bilbo knew this for sure.  "I promise."  He placed a kiss atop each head before standing to leave.  As he gently shut the door, he leaned back against it and shuddered.  He knew, deep within his heart, that Thorin would do all that he could to return to them.  Sometimes, though, there were forces beyond anyone's control that might prevent his safe return.  Namely, a dragon.  According to Thorin, it had decimated an entire mountain.  What could thirteen people do against a dragon, even if one of them was a wizard?

     "Look," he begun, "I wish I could help you, I really do.  I can understand the desire for home, to have a place to call your own.  If I didn't have children, I might have agreed to be your...burglar.  But I do, and I can't endanger my sons."  Turning to face Thorin, Bilbo made sure Thorin heard his sincerity.  "Though I don't know your sister, only what you've told me, I would trust her with our children.  If she's anything like you, I know they would be safe.  But I can't risk myself, either.  I couldn't abandon them that way.  I'm sorry."

     "Bilbo, don't be sorry," Thorin said with a shake of his head, clasping one of Bilbo's hands.  "I will admit, there is a part of me that doesn't want to let our sons out of my sight, that wants them to be with us the first time a dwarf steps foot in Erebor in one hundred and seventy years.  However, there is another part, the part to which I'm inclined to listen, that wants our sons safe at all costs, even if that means leaving them behind.  Do not be sorry for feeling as you should.  I feel the same."

     Relieved beyond words, Bilbo added, "I want to help you, I really do.  But I can't.  I'm not made for adventures.  You will have to do this without me."

     "I understand."  Thorin's tone may have been regretful (why?) but it was sincere, which Bilbo was glad for.

     Surprisingly, Gandalf made no objections, only sighed and shook his head.  The dwarves gradually left the dining room, moving towards the parlor with pipes in hand.  When Thorin stood, Bilbo quickly grasped his arm.

     "Thorin, I want you to know, even though we aren't coming with you on this quest, that doesn't mean we don't want to go with you ever.  When you reclaim Erebor, perhaps we could...live there.  With you.  If you'd have us."  At Thorin's stunned expression, Bilbo murmured, "I want you to be a part of your son's lives.  You've missed enough and I don't want you to miss any more."

     "But...what about Bag End?  Your ancestral home?"

     "I still want our sons to know their hobbit side, so perhaps we can come back every so often.  Maybe I'll give it to a deserving relative.  I don't know.  I'll figure it out."

     Thorin swallowed thickly.  "I would very much like that."

~~~~~

     Listening to the dwarves sing made Bilbo ache inside.  It was such a beautiful, haunting song that it almost brought tears to his eyes.  Was this how Thorin felt, all of the time?  To live with this sort of burden but remain strong for his people was...incredible.  Admirable.

     Bilbo hadn't thought it possible, but he fell just a little bit more in love with Thorin.

~~~~~

     If watching Thorin prepare to leave had been painful the first time, it was unbearable now, especially with the boys looking so heart-broken.

     Thorin kneeled before them.  "It pains me greatly to leave you when I've just found you.  I promise you that when we have reclaimed Erebor, I will return for you.  I swear it."

     Perhaps realizing the seriousness of his vow, the boys nodded before throwing their arms around him.  Bilbo wanted nothing more than to do the same, but he knew that if he did, he'd never let go.

     "Thorin," he murmured after the boys finally released Thorin with some coaxing.  "Be careful."

     He received a solemn nod.  Just like that day six years ago, Bilbo watched Thorin depart with his companions down winding paths until he could no longer see him.  He hoped against all hope that they would succeed, that perhaps the dragon had left.

     Gazing down at his sons, he realized that if Thorin didn't succeed, if Smaug proved to be an undefeatable foe, they would never see him again.  They would never know the incredible dwarf their father was.  Could Bilbo live with himself if he didn't take this chance and Thorin was lost to them forever?  Or was the danger too insurmountable?

     The boys gazed back, probably curious as to why they were still standing there.  Frodo looked so much like Thorin in his coloring, and Sam was stocky like a dwarf.  Merry and Pippin probably took after Fíli and Kíli more than he wanted to admit.  He was...excited to see what kind of traits they'd have as they grew, but he wouldn't ever know what was dwarf and what was purely them without Thorin.

     Looking back to the spot where the dwarves had disappeared, Bilbo made his decision.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Khuzdul word I wrote in here- khuzshumenkurdu- this literally means "friend of my heart." I am by no means a Khuzdul expert; I hardly know anything at all except for what I have read in other fics. I looked around the internet but couldn't find a term that conveyed that meaning, so I found each of the English words translated into Khuzdul (khuzsh-friend, u-of, men-my, kurdu-heart) and stuck them together. On one of the articles I found, they explained how gender affects the spelling, so I think I've got that right. If there is anyone who is more knowledgeable in this subject and knows a Khuzdul word that appropriately reflects this meaning (perhaps a loved one without [yet] the sexual aspect-like a really, really close friend,) I would be forever grateful. However, if not, I will keep this word I made up (I think. I haven't found it elsewhere.)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes his decision. Hopefully it is the right one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I'm not the fastest updater, your comments keep me inspired. I really appreciate all of the comments you leave; it is a balm to my self-conscious soul.
> 
> You may or may not notice that I made a few changes to the dates I have for each chapter. As I was going back and doing a little research on the timeline of the Hobbit, I discovered that my date for the first meeting of the Company was incorrect. Instead of April 6, 2941, it is April 26, 2941. I'm not sure where I got the sixth from, but I have corrected my mistake accordingly. You might also notice that I will no longer be including dates at the beginning of each chapter. Trying to figure out how to somewhat keep with Tolkien's timeline was making my head hurt, so now I won't be including dates in the rest of the fic, unless it has some significance to the plot.
> 
> As always, the names, places, characters, etc. that are recognizable belong to Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I just own the notebook I'm writing this on and the laptop I'm typing it on.

     

     "We must hurry!" Bilbo exclaimed, scrambling around Bag End to pack their bags.  What does one take with them on an adventure?  "We can't miss them!"

     "But I thought you said we weren't going on their, their quest?" Same asked confusedly.

     "I know what I said."  He still stood by his refusal to bring his sons anywhere near the dragon.  Perhaps, if they acted quickly enough, they could get word to Dís to meet them somewhere so she could watch the boys.  The roads were probably safe enough.  There was something deep within himself that told him he had to be on this quest, that if he wasn't, bad things could happen.  "I've changed my mind.  I've decided that I will help Thorin."

     "But, the dragon!" Pippin reminded him, though he eagerly threw his clothes in a knapsack.

     It pained him greatly to say this.  "I will follow Gandalf's suggestion and send word to your papa's sister, Dís, to come get you.  Your aunt will keep you safe."

     Helping the boys put their traveling coats on and slide their arms through the straps of their packs, Bilbo racked his brain to see if he was forgetting anything.

     "Oh!  Mama, wait!" Frodo squeaked.  He took off down the hallway before Bilbo could stop him.  Sighing, Bilbo stuffed his pipe and pipeweed into his pack, having this inkling he was forgetting something.  Suddenly Frodo was back with a handful of handkerchiefs.  "Mama, we can't forget these!"

     He found himself chuckling.  Dropping to his knees, he placed a kiss atop Frodo's head.  "Frodo, my dear boy, I don't know what I'd do without you."

     Frodo beamed.

     Anticipation and anxiety had him itching to run out the door, but Bilbo made himself stay still and look into each of his sons' eyes.  "I do not know what this quest will bring.  It could be dangerous, but I will do everything I can to protect you.  If...if you don't want to go, I'm sure Hamfast will watch you until I come back."

     "No, Mama, we're going with you," Sam insisted.  Was that stubbornness a hobbit thing or a dwarf thing?  Or purely a Sam thing?

     "We have to protect you," Merry pointed out, determination coloring his voice.

     Tears pricked at his eyes and a lump lodged in his throat.  How had he gotten so lucky?  "Okay.  Just remember, you stay with the group.  No wandering off."  He stood and moved between Sam and Frodo, taking their hands.  "Hold each other's hands and don't let go.  Are you ready?"

     They nodded excitedly.  Taking a fortifying breath, Bilbo led them out the door, locking it behind them, and set off down the path at a run.  His boys laughed in exhilaration, and he couldn't help but join them.  He hadn't run like this since he'd been a fauntling.  It made him feel alive to race down the path and climb over fences, to ignore the disapproving looks of the other hobbits.  He felt free, and in his heart he knew he was doing the right thing.

~~~~~

     "Wait!  Wait!"  Finally they caught up with Thorin and his company.  Bilbo had almost feared they'd been too late.

     Halting their ponies, the dwarves turned to look at him.

     "Bilbo?"  Thorin's voice was a mixture of confusion and concern.

     Panting for breath, Bilbo gasped, "I've changed...my mind.  We will come...with you.  However...we will send word to your sister to meet us somewhere to take the boys.  I still refuse to take them anywhere near Smaug."

     Thorin nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.  "Where do you propose we meet her?"

     "If I might make a suggestion," Gandalf said.  "Imladris would be a good meeting place."

     "Imladris?" Thorin spat.  "Do you think I would trust those...elves with my sons?"

     "We have a map we cannot read.  Lord Elrond can help us," Gandalf argued rather reasonably.

     "Help?  What help came from the elves?" Thorin growled.

     "Thorin," Bilbo pleaded, hoping to stop the tirade before it began.  If the boys heard how deep Thorin's hatred of elves ran, they'd be crushed.  "Please.  I know you don't trust them, but you must do this for me.  Send word to your sister to meet us in Rivendell and we will wait for her there.  We can rest, gather supplies, and...you'll be able to spend more time with the boys.  They would very much like that."

     Manipulating Thorin sat as well as spoiled milk within Bilbo, but it had to be done.  Reasonable though Thorin might have been, his resentment of the elves blinded him to reason.  Whether or not Thorin realized he was being manipulated, Bilbo couldn't tell, but he was reluctantly nodding.

     "Fine," he rumbled, glaring at Gandalf.  "We will go to Rivendell.  But, if they harm a single hair on my sons' heads, I will not be held accountable for my actions.  Agreed?"

     "Agreed."  Smug was perhaps not the right word to describe the expression Gandalf wore, but it was close enough.  Feeling rather relieved himself, Bilbo grinned at the boys' excited whispers about elves.  That was definitely a hobbit thing (or, more like, a being-children-of-Bilbo-Baggins thing.)

     Then his grin slid right off his face when Thorin mentioned ponies.  The boys would have to ride with someone, clearly, but he could walk just fine.  "No, no, no.  That won't be necessary, thank you, but I'm sure I can keep up on foot.  Get the boys to ride with someone, I'll be fine.  I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know.  I even got as far as Frogmorton once-" He yelped in surprise as he was abruptly pulled onto a pony.  Clutching at the saddle, he narrowed his gaze at the two unrepentant, grinning faces of Fíli and Kíli. 

     Fortunately for everyone on Middle Earth, Merry and Pippin were not placed with Fíli and Kíli.  Instead, Sam and Frodo, the least corruptible beings in the land, sat before them.  Merry sat with Thorin while Dwalin helped Pippin climb into the saddle with Bilbo.  Unlike himself, the boys were as relaxed as if they had ridden ponies all their life.  Excitement and curiosity had them chattering to their saddle-mates, which Bilbo was glad for.  This was a wonderful opportunity for his boys to know their family and to learn about the dwarven half of their culture.  He himself was looking forward to seeing more of the world (especially the elves, but he wasn't going to tell Thorin that.)  It was one thing to pour over maps and read books about faraway lands; it was another thing entirely to actually leave home and travel to those places.  The prospect was both thrilling and terrifying.

     He just hoped he had made the right decision.

~~~~~

     "Papa, can you tell us about E-E-Erbor?" Frodo inquired, big blue eyes staring up imploringly at Thorin.  Just the few days of traveling they had done had almost entirely erased Frodo's shyness.  Bilbo was glad to see it gone; it meant Frodo was comfortable.

     As their journey progressed, the Company took to rotating who the boys rode with.  Though Thorin had told him that dwarves cherished their children, Bilbo still felt surprised when he saw the utmost care these dwarves showed his sons, though he didn't think it was entirely because they were also Thorin's sons.  Bilbo supposed it was only natural for most omegas to feel some nurturing instincts around children, but the alphas were just as bad.  If he didn't think it would get him in trouble, he'd say that this was a company made up of the biggest mother hens Middle Earth had ever seen.

     "Erebor?"  There was a mixture of pride and pain in Thorin's face, though he smiled gently down at Frodo.  "It is my homeland and the homeland of many of the dwarves in this Company.  Built right into the mountain, it was one of the greatest dwarven kingdoms in Middle Earth, and it will be again."

     "In the mountain?" Merry asked incredulously from where he sat before Balin.  "Why?"

     Thankfully not taking offense to Merry's question, Thorin chuckled at their amazement.  "There is no better place for a dwarf to live than in a mountain.  When Mahal created the seven Fathers, he carved them out of stone, designing them to be strong and unyielding, to resist the domination of others, and to live for their crafts.  All dwarves, no matter their craft, feel the Call of the stone.  It is much like how hobbits have a strong connection to nature, if I'm not mistaken."

     "Do you think we will feel the Call of the stone?  Even though we're only half dwarf?" Pippin asked, worry furrowing his brow.

     "I am sure of it," Thorin assured him.  "Once Erebor is reclaimed and it is safe for you to join us, I have no doubt you will feel the Call."

     The fauntlings looked greatly relieved, a sign of the naïve trust children had.  Bilbo dearly hoped Thorin was right.  He probably believed what he told the boys, but if he was wrong, if the boys' dwarven side was not strong enough to feel the Call...then they would be the worst sort of heart-broken, for they would believe that they were a disappointment to Thorin.

     "What's a craft?" Sam inquired, breaking Bilbo out of his somber thoughts.

     "A craft, Master Sam, is a particular talent a dwarf has," Balin explained from where he was riding beside Thorin.  "Like stone-sense, every dwarf has a craft.  Mine, for example, is that of a scholar.  I very much enjoy researching and recording history.  Master Ori's craft is much the same, though he is also an exceptional artist.  He has been my apprentice for a few years and one of the best I have ever had."  Glancing back at Ori where he rode with his brothers, Bilbo noticed that two bright pink spots colored his cheeks.  "My mate Dori can brew the most exquisite teas you'll ever taste in Middle Earth.  He has quite the talent for picking the finest herbs and flowers and combining them in ways that will have your taste buds singing."

     "You forget to mention that you also have the craft of a silvertongue," Dori called out, though his pleased expression belied his words.

     "What's about yours, Papa?  What's your craft?" Sam asked.  All four boys looked at Thorin with eager expressions, jumping at the chance to know all that there was to know about Thorin.

     "Tis not scholarly like Balin's nor unique like Dori's, but I am proud to be a blacksmith.  To see the armor and weapons I have crafted protect the lives of my people gives me a fulfillment little else does."  Face softening, Thorin met the boys' gazes.  "Nothing will bring me greater pleasure than to watch you discover your crafts."

     Riding on separate ponies did not keep the boys from speculating with each other what their crafts could be.  From time to time, one of the dwarves would chime in about his own craft.  It fascinated Bilbo to see the diversity of crafts within the Company.  Bofur sang and was quite adept at creating clever lines on the spot, while his cousin Bifur was a skilled toymaker.  Óin was one of the best healers the dwarves had (or so he claimed) and Glóin had a keen eye for gems.  Kíli was pretty sure his craft was in archery, though Fíli admitted he wasn't yet sure what his own craft was.

     Oh, if only he had parchment and ink and a quill!  Other than what Thorin had shared during his first visit to the Shire, Bilbo was learning more about dwarves in the last few days than he ever had.  Than probably any non-dwarf had.  The secrecy of the dwarves was well known, so the fact that the Company willingly divulged some of those secrets in Bilbo's presence baffled him, though he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.        

~~~~~

     One morning found Bilbo riding by himself in the saddle, his fauntlings having decided that he was capable enough to ride by himself.  He could not complain as it allowed him to stretch out a bit, but it was rather lonely with no one to talk to.

     "Excuse me?  Mister Bilbo?" a timid voice asked from beside him.  It was Ori, whose eyes were watering.  "Could I borrow one of your handkerchiefs?  I seem to have misplaced mine and there is something in the air that is making me sneeze something fierce."  To prove his point, a sneeze nearly had him falling off his pony.

     Digging through his pockets, Bilbo pulled out a handkerchief and wordlessly handed it to Ori, who smiled gratefully after blowing his nose.

     "So," Bilbo began, deciding to make conversation, "a scholar.  Is there a particular subject you're interested in?"

     "Uh, well, I am interested in many subjects, but I am especially fascinated by history.  I find the story of the seven Fathers incredibly intriguing.  Much of what we have on them and the origins of the seven kingdoms is scattered.  I hope to one day gather everything there is and write a book so that all dwarves have the chance to learn their history if they so wish."

     "That is wonderful, Ori," Bilbo praised, smiling at the pink flushing Ori's cheeks.  "I know Frodo loves stories and loves learning everything about anything.  Perhaps, when this quest is over, you could teach him.  He would love that."

     A pleased smile curved Ori's lips.  "I would be honored.  If he discovers that his craft is that of a scholar, I could take him on as an apprentice.  Master Balin has promised that once we reclaim Erebor, he would promote me to Master Scholar of the libraries of Erebor.  I would make sure Frodo has access to all of our documents, assuming they have not been damaged."  There was not even a flicker of superiority in Ori's tone as he said this.  In fact, he was rather humble, as if he was confused as to why Balin would give him such a prestigious title.  Bilbo found himself liking Ori even more.

     "So, is that why you are on this quest?" he inquired curiously.

     "Master Balin requested that I join as the official scribe of the quest.  If he is satisfied with what I have recorded, he will then promote me."  Pausing, Ori glanced around, brown eyes flitting between the dwarves riding ahead of them.  Leaning closer to Bilbo, he mumbled, "IalsojoinedbecauseDwalinjoined."

     Grinning slowly, Bilbo noticed how Ori's flush darkened.  "Dwalin, uh?" he murmured.  He glanced to where the big dwarf rode near the front of the group.  Sam, who rode with him, looked utterly enthralled with the story Dwalin was telling.  "Does he know?"

     "No, and you mustn't tell him!" Ori whispered fiercely.  "I, uh, I think he is my One, but he has not yet shown any recognition of me as his.  I always have this strange feeling whenever I am near him, but I don't want to say anything in case it turns out we are not mates.  I could not handle the rejection."

     Hand held over his heart, Bilbo solemnly vowed, "I promise not to say anything.  Your secret is safe with me."  And it truly was; he would never go back on his word.  Somehow, though, he was going to figure out how to help Ori.  Dwalin, once one got passed his gruff exterior, was actually a good dwarf and a good alpha.  He did surprisingly well with the fauntlings and was incredibly loyal.  Bilbo had a feeling that if he truly was Ori's One, he would treat Ori as he deserved.

     This journey just became even more interesting.     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed. This was really more of a filler chapter and me trying to do a little world-building. If everything goes as plans, next chapter should be the confrontation with the trolls. I'm still trying to figure out what parts of the story to gloss over and what parts to go in depth about. I don't want to repeat things you have already seen before a million times. As well, parts that I skim over in this fic I might explore more in another fic (such as Mirkwood/Kíli's interaction with Legolas, and anything that will be explored with a different pairing.) At the end of this fic, if there is something that you would like to see explored, just let me know. It might take awhile for me to get it out, but I am always open to ideas.
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos if you like!
> 
> P.S. Thank you to those who provided advice about the Khuzdul I included in the last chapter. I'm still deciding if I want to change it or not. I will probably change it to one of your suggestions, but as it is almost my bedtime, I will have to do it with my next update.  
> 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This chapter fought me a little. Originally, I wanted it to be a mix of book 'verse and movie 'verse, but I decided to go with purely movie 'verse. I liked how Bilbo's cleverness and ability to think on his feet was portrayed in the movie, so I stuck with it.
> 
> One of you mentioned possible pairings with the dwarves who do not yet have a pairing. Bifur I'm open for anything, but I have a plan for Nori. You'll just have to wait and see.

     No matter his irritation with the old coot, Bilbo still did not like seeing Gandalf stomp away from the group in an angry huff.  Not that he doubted the dwarves' ability to protect him and the fauntlings, but it had been comforting to know Gandalf was there.

     Looking to Balin, who shook his head helplessly, Bilbo pushed down his uneasiness and smiled reassuringly at his boys.  Gandalf would come back, Bilbo was sure, despite his disagreement with Thorin.  He would not abandon them.

     Setting up camp in the abandoned farmhouse was a little unsettling, though Bilbo kept his opinion to himself.  He rolled out their bedrolls and fluffed up their packs, though there was little he could do to make the ground any more comfortable to sleep on.  The boys never once complained, though, despite that this was so different from anything else they had ever experienced.  No amount of sore bottoms from countless hours of pony-riding and drenched clothing from unexpected rainfall could dampen their spirits.  Bilbo was proud.

     Wandering over to where Bofur and Bombur were bickering over the stew pot, Bilbo smirked at the furtive glances Ori kept sending Dwalin's way.  If the poor lad wasn't so shy and didn't bury his nose in his journal every time Dwalin so much as twitched, he'd have noticed that Dwalin was returning those looks.  Perhaps not quite as pining, but more...confused.  What could that mean?  Was he confused as to why Ori was giving him those looks?  Or was he going through the same thing Ori was, experiencing strange feelings yet not yet recognizing Ori as his One?  And what was with Nori shooting both of them narrow-eyed looks?  Bilbo was going to have to keep a close eye on them if he was going to help them sort their feelings out.

     Suddenly noticing how dark the sky was becoming, Bilbo swallowed nervously as Gandalf had yet to appear.  Where could he be?  He'd been gone a long time.

     "Who?" Bofur inquired, ladling stew into wooden bowls. 

     Momentarily confused, Bilbo then realized he must have spoken aloud.  "Gandalf."

     "He's a wizard," Bofur retorted, seemingly unconcerned.  "He does as he chooses.  Here," he added, handing two steaming bowls to Bilbo, "do us a favor and take these to the lads."

     Assuming he meant Fíli and Kíli, Bilbo took the bowls and headed to where they were watching over the ponies.  As he came closer, he saw them staring into the dark of the forest, their bodies unusually still.  Bilbo's unease grew.

     "What's the matter?" he asked, attempting to hand them the bowls.

     "We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies," Kíli explained, ignoring the proffered bowl.

     "Only, we've encountered a slight problem," Fíli added gravely.

     "We had sixteen."

     "Now there's fourteen."

     Oh, dear.

     "Daisy and Bungo are missing."

     "Well, that's not good.  That is not good at all."  How could two ponies simply disappear?  What had they been doing that they missed two ponies disappearing?  "And where were you?"

     Rightfully so, both boys looked shame-faced.  Sighing deeply through his nose, Bilbo held up a silencing hand.  He was not their mother.  Once they figured out where the missing ponies had went off to, he was letting Thorin handle it.  "Never mind about that.  We have to tell Thorin.  He needs to know."

     Though they looked about ready to protest, Fíli and Kíli slumped in defeat at Bilbo's stern look, nodding forlornly.  Satisfied, Bilbo turned to survey the area the rest of the ponies were grazing in.  Uprooted trees caught his eye.  It looked fresh as soil still clung to the roots.  

     Pointing to it, he guessed, "Look.  Something big uprooted these trees.  Something very big and possibly quite dangerous."

     Suddenly, Fíli exclaimed, "Hey!  There's a light over here!  Stay down."

     Despite Bilbo's protests, Fíli and Kíli crept forward.  Compelled to save these boys' from their foolishness, he followed them.  He carefully held the bowls of the stew, which was probably cold by now, as he jumped over logs and stumbled over dips in the ground.  

     Harsh laughter sounded from near the light Bilbo now saw, startling them.  Poking his head above the log they were crouching behind, Bilbo squinted his eyes, not quite making out the figures around the fire.  "What is it?"

     "Trolls," Kíli replied.

     "Trolls?!" Bilbo whispered furiously.  One of the trolls stomped passed them, two whinnying ponies held underneath each massive arm.  Bilbo gasped.  "He's got Myrtle and Minty!  I think they're going to eat them.  We have to tell Thorin now and do something."

     They scrambled back to the campsite, careful to not make too much noise and alert the trolls of their presence.

     "Thorin!" Bilbo exclaimed as they burst into the camp.  "Thorin!"

     Standing up from where he had been kneeling next to the fauntlings, Thorin frowned at the sight of him and Fíli and Kíli.  "What is the matter?"

     "Uncle, there are trolls in the forest," Fíli explained between gasps.  "They've taken some of our ponies."

     Barely making himself heard amid the shouts of the dwarves, Thorin intently asked, "How many trolls?"

     "Two, three maybe," Kíli answered.  "We didn't get too close."

     "How many ponies were taken?"

     "Four.  Two were already gone when we noticed.  When we had investigated further, one of the trolls had taken two more."

     Dwalin, who had moved to stand beside Thorin, turned to look at his brother.  "Can we afford to lose four ponies?"

     Opening his mouth in outrage (Myrtle was a good pony, dammit!) Bilbo was about to give Dwalin what for when Thorin shook his head.  "No.  It would slow us down if we loaded down the rest of the ponies with more supplies and doubled up riders on some."  He shook his head again, looking towards the forest.  "We need those ponies."

     Dwalin rolled his shoulders back.  "Grasper and Keeper have not yet tasted troll flesh."

     Apparently taking that as acquiescence, Thorin looked around at all of the dwarves.  "I need some of you to stay with Bilbo and our sons."

     Stepping forward, Ori lifted his chin, determination hardening his young face.  "I will stay behind and protect them."

     Though he didn't doubt Ori's capabilities (whatever they were,) Bilbo was still surprised to see many of the dwarves nodding approvingly, especially Dori.  And Dwalin.  Bifur stepped forward, as well, growling something in Khuzdul that had Thorin bowing his head in thanks.

     " _Du bekâr!_ " Thorin shouted, sending the dwarves into action.  He knelt before the boys, gently clasping each of the napes and pressing his brow to theirs.  Whatever he whispered to them had them nodding solemnly.

     When Thorin finally stood, Bilbo clenched his fists to keep from reaching out.  Heart thudding quickly in his chest, he murmured, "Be careful, please.  Those ponies aren't worth your lives."

     As he did with their sons, Thorin clasped his nape and pressed their brows together.  "Do not fret.  We are all capable fighters and trolls are slow and stupid.  However, I promise that if it proves to be futile, we will retreat."

     Yearning so badly to stand up on his toes to place a kiss on Thorin's mouth, Bilbo resisted and stepped back.

     "Don't worry, Mama," Pippin said reassuringly as they watched Thorin lead the dwarves into the forest.  "Papa's a good fighter.  One of the best warriors there is."

     "And how do you know that?  You've never seen him fight."

     "Mister Balin said so, remember?  It was in that story about that one battle."

     "Well, if Mister Balin said so..."  A glance showed that Ori and Bifur looked quite calm and not worried, so Bilbo forced himself to not worry.

     And where was Gandalf?

~~~~~

      Bilbo caressed Merry's sleeping face, smiling fondly.  Though they'd complained, the boys still had to go to bed at a decent hour, adventures and trolls or no.  Curled up together in the dilapidated farmhouse, they made quite the precious picture.  Which, if Bilbo wasn't mistaken, Ori was working diligently to capture with his quill and parchment.

     Pushing to his feet, he strode out of the house to where Bifur stood guard.  At first, his appearance had startled Bilbo.  It was not every day one saw another walking around with a piece of an axe embedded in his head.  His wild appearance coupled with his guttural speech lent an almost dangerous air to Bifur.  But watching him dote on his cousins had endeared the alpha to Bilbo.  No doubt he would defend Bilbo and his sons should anything appear.

     They stood together in silence (for obvious reasons,) watching the dark, thick line of trees.  The longer the forest's border remained unbroken by dwarven bodies, the tighter the coil of anxiety in Bilbo's belly grew.  There was no doubt of the dwarves' prowess, yet they were going against trolls.  Three towering trolls who were possibly the reason the farmhouse was abandoned.

     A fine time for Gandalf to disappear!  Bilbo would hunt him down himself if he had any clue to where he'd gone.  Blasted wizards!

     It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but Bilbo had enough with waiting.  They'd been gone too long; something was wrong.  All kinds of horrors of what the trolls might do to the dwarves filled his mind, all of which made him swallow in fear.

     No, he would not allow fear to cripple him.  He had to do something!  Bolstering up his courage, Bilbo strode towards the dark forest.

     Khuzdul was growled at him, followed by Ori's exclamation.  "Bilbo, where are you going?"

     "Something is wrong," Bilbo insisted.  "I need to help them."

     Bifur growled something else, though Bilbo could make no sense of it.

     "Bifur's right," Ori agreed.  "If there is something wrong and...and the others are captured or...or...you can't take on those trolls by yourself!"

     Reason, ugly thing that it was, stopped Bilbo in his tracks.  A warrior he was not, and he could not allow his children to lose both parents in the same night (Yavanna willing, Thorin and the others were still alive.)

     "You both can't come with me," Bilbo pointed out, turning back to face Bifur and Ori.  "Someone has to stay with the boys."

     Pointing to himself then down at the ground, Bifur spoke in determination.  Ori's eyes grew large.

     "What?" Bilbo asked in confusion.  "What did Bifur say?"

     Speaking slowly, as if in disbelief, Ori translated, "He says that I should go with you and he will stay here.  I am smaller and lighter on my feet than he is, so we can sneak up on the trolls."  Nodding his head, with a fierce expression on his face, Ori clasped Bifur's shoulder.

     Following his example, Bilbo nodded at Bifur gratefully.  Quickly, before he lost his nerve, he turned and headed back to the forest, Ori close behind him.  They treaded softly, following the glow of the trolls' campfire.  As they crept closer, Bilbo heard the trolls talking amongst themselves, voices loud and obnoxious.

     "Don't bother cooking them.  Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly," one troll suggested.  With horror, Bilbo took in the sight of the dwarves trussed in sacks at the trolls' feet.  He almost feared they were dead until he saw the sacks wriggle and heard dwarven cursing.  His relief was like a blow to the chest, so great it was.

     "Dori!  Nori!" Ori gasped, his hand flying to his mouth and his brown eyes wide with terror.  Looking to where Ori pointed to with a shaking hand, Bilbo was dismayed to see some of the dwarves tied to a spit over the campfire, rotated by one of the trolls as if they were stuck pigs.  "Oh, Dwalin!  Bilbo, we have to do something before it's too late!"

     "I-I know!  J-just let me, let me think for a minute!"  How were you supposed to incapacitate three trolls when you just a small hobbit and a small dwarf?

     "They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage," another trolled suggested.

     "Ooh, that does sound quite nice."

     "Never mind the seasoning," the third troll interjected.  "We ain't got all night!  Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on.  I don't fancy being turned to stone."

     Stone?  What?  It hit Bilbo then.  Trolls turned to stone when touched by daylight.  He remembered reading that in one of his books when he had been a fauntling.  That was how they could defeat the trolls!  Keep them outside long enough until the sun came out.  But how?

     An idea suddenly popped into his head.

     Rushing out of the cover of the trees, ignoring Ori's startled yelp, Bilbo exclaimed, "Wait!  You are making a terrible mistake!"  Having the gazes of all three trolls boring into him was as petrifying as facing down Farmer Maggot's hounds, but he stood his ground.

     "What are you, then?" one troll asked.  "An oversized squirrel?"

     Almost without thinking, Bilbo answered, "I'm a burglar-uh, hobbit."

     "A burgla-hobbit?"

     "What do you mean about us makin' a terrible mistake?"

     Think fast, Bilbo, think fast!  "Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning."  As his plan slowly unfurled, he knew the dwarves would most likely be offended, but if it saved their lives, they would just have to deal with it.

     "What about the seasoning?"

     "Well, have you smelt them?  I've been traveling with them for quite some time, and I have to say, you're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

     Ignoring the confused exclamations of the dwarves, Bilbo frantically searched for Thorin in the mass of angry dwarven faces.  There!  There, buried beneath Kíli and Glóin, was Thorin's beloved face.  He managed to catch Thorin's eye, whose gaze rapidly turned distressed, though Bilbo tried to convey that he had a plan, though as he couldn't actually say anything, he wasn't sure how successful he was.

     "What do you know about cooking dwarf?" one of the trolls inquire skeptically, nearly startling Bilbo.

     "Shut up, and let the, uh, flurgaburburahobbit talk," another troll reprimanded.

     "Un," Bilbo stammered, heart pounding as he scrambled to think of something.  How soon was dawn approaching?  "Th-the secret to cooking dwarf is, um-"

     "Yes?  Come on."

     "It's, uh-"

     "Tell us the secret."

     Pushy trolls.  "Yes, I'm telling you, the secret is..."  Come on, Bilbo, think!  "To skin them first!"

     Flinching a little at the outraged shouting coming from the dwarves, Bilbo had to fight down the urge to prostrate himself before them and beg for their forgiveness.  His omega nature was unused to having so many alphas angry at him; the barrage of harsh pheromones pressing down on him was almost too much.

     Fortunately, his plan seemed to be working.  "Tom, get me the filleting knife," the troll commanded with beckoning fingers.

     "What a load of rubbish!" the other troll cried.  "I've eaten plenty with their skins on.  Scruff them, I say, boots and all."

     A quick flash of movement out of the corner of Bilbo's eye caught his attention.  That looked suspiciously like Gandalf.  Oh, sweet Yavanna!  He nearly wept.  He would take back all of the unkind things he had ever thought about Gandalf.

     "'e's right!" the third troll agreed.  Grabbing Bombur by the feet, the troll held him above his head.  "Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!  Nice and crunchy!"  He opened his mouth, waggling his tongue.

     Bombur's frightened cries spurred Bilbo on.  "Not-not that one, he-he's infected!"  Despite the circumstances, he was quite proud of himself for that one.

     "You what?"

     "Yeah," Bilbo rushed to say.  "He's got worms in his tubes."  The troll immediately lowered Bombur and threw him back on top of the pile of dwarves.  "In-in fact, they all have.  They're infested with parasites.  It's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it.  I really wouldn't."

     "Parasites?  Did he say parasites?" Oín asked.

     "We don't have parasites!" Kíli shouted indignantly, to Bilbo's utter frustration.  "You have parasites!"

     He wanted to stomp his feet, he really did.  But before he could lose his temper and shout at the dwarves for ruining his plan, Ori suddenly appeared at his side.

     "He's right!  We are infected!"  He obviously had caught on to Bilbo's plan.  Though clearly terrified of the trolls, Ori stood determined.  His agreement with Bilbo caused the other dwarves to quiet, confusion evident in their expressions.  "That's why we're traveling along these roads.  We're going to see the elven healers."

     Ori's explanation helped a little to sway the trolls, but not enough.  Staring imploringly Thorin, hoping that he understood what Bilbo and Ori were attempting to do, Bilbo sagged in relief when Thorin gave a nearly imperceptible nod and nudged at Kíli with his foot.  Seeming to understand, the dwarves began proclaiming their infestations.

     "I've got parasites as big as my arm!" 

     "Mine are the biggest parasites!  I've got huge parasites!"

     "We're riddled!"

     One of the trolls squinted at Bilbo.  "What would you have us do, then?  Let 'em all go?"

     "Well..." Bilbo said with a shrug, hoping they'd do just that.

     "You think I don't know what you're up to?" the troll snarled, poking Bilbo and Ori in the chest with meaty fingers.  "These little ferrets are taking us for fools!"

     How dare he!  "Ferret?" Bilbo exclaimed in indignation.

     "The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf's voice shouted.  He appeared on the other side of the trolls' camp.  Striking a large boulder with his staff, it broke in half with a large crack, letting in light from the rising sun.  The effect was almost instantaneous.  Even as the trolls realized what was happening and tried to flee, their ugly flesh began to turn to stone.  It crept along until there were three towering statues with terrified looks on their faces.

     Bilbo leaned heavily on Ori, a choked laugh escaping him.  They did it!  They actually did it!

     "We did it," Ori gasped, mirroring Bilbo's thoughts.  Then he moaned pitifully.  "Dori's going to kill me!"

     Chuckling, Bilbo patted Ori on the shoulder consolingly.  Ready to face his own fate, he squared his shoulders and moved to help Thorin and the others escape their sacks.  He took their apologies and thanks with a nod, mindfully aware of Thorin's eyes on him.

     Thorin remained silent as Bilbo helped him out of his sack.  He didn't smell angry nor did he look angry, but Bilbo couldn't place what his expression meant.  No matter.  Bilbo was not going to apologize.  They'd have been dead without him and Ori.  Subconsciously, he lifted his chin.

     Surprising him, Thorin smiled faintly and shook his head.  "I could tell you that it was foolish of you and Ori to take on three trolls by yourselves when not even a band of able-bodied dwarves could do it, but I won't.  Without you're quick thinking, we would have ended up as their supper.  For that, I am thankful.

     "Where is Bifur?" Bofur asked as he stumbled towards them (being spun around on a spit would wreak havoc on anyone's balance.)  His scent, sweet and warm like honey, was slightly sour in his distress.

     "He is watching over the children," Bilbo explained, instinctively wanting to soothe his fellow omega.  "We should probably head back.  Bifur must be out of his mind with worry."  
     Trudging through the forest was much easier with the aid of sunlight.  It felt less menacing, as well, though that might have been due to its resident trolls now serving as statues.  Sitting outside the farmhouse with the boys, who were not awake, Bifur looked the part of fierce protector, though he was gentle in his interactions with them.  When he glanced in Bilbo and the other dwarves' direction, his stern face softened (or it seemed as if it did; Bilbo couldn't quite tell with all of that facial hair.)  He motioned towards them and said something to the boys that had them looking up from where they had been digging in the dirt with sticks.  Their excited shouts brought a smile to Bilbo's face, which grew fonder when they scrambled towards Thorin, hundreds of questions bubbling from their mouths.

     Bilbo did not miss the way Thorin gently rubbed the back of his hand across each of their sons' cheeks as they chattered, scent-marking them.  His instincts must have went into a frenzy with the knowledge that his children had been out there defenseless while he had been held captive.

     It could have taken only one wrong move for the boys to have become orphans, and Bilbo hated himself a little for even allowing that possibility.   

     _No more_ , Bilbo swore to himself.  _No more.  I will do everything in my power to make sure my boys will have both of their parents at the end of this quest._

 Perhaps it was time he began to learn how to be a true burglar.  And he knew just who to go to.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we should be arriving at Rivendell. Poor elves; they won't know what hit them.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company finally makes it to Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the long wait. When I started this chapter, I was dealing with finals, so that sucked all of the motivation out of me. This chapter fought me, as well. I wasn't too sure how far I wanted to go but I wanted it to be a somewhat nice length. We're still in Rivendell, but hopefully we'll be leaving it some time in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for all of your encouragement, even when I make you wait forever for updates. You guys encourage me and give me all kinds of ideas. If you have any ideas for pairings that I don't already have planned, feel free to give me ideas. I may use your suggestions, I may not. I have something planned for Nori; I've already given a sort of challenge to one of you that if you can figure out what I have planned for him, I'll write a fic of your choosing. I'm opening this challenge to everyone. I have already sort of but not really hinted at what I'm going to do with Nori. I'll continue to leave hints throughout the rest of this story. If one of you guesses what I'm going to do before I publish the first chapter of Nori's story, I will write a fic of your choosing (as long as it is in a fandom I am familiar with.) Good luck and enjoy the chapter!

 

     Radagast was...strange, to put it nicely. Not quite what Bilbo imagined a wizard to be (not that he knew very many wizards. Just Gandalf. And Gandalf was...Gandalf,) what with nasty bird poop matting his hair, but he appeared to have a great amount of Gandalf's respect, so that was enough for Bilbo. His fauntlings were certainly enthralled with Radagast's rabbits.

     As it seemed that Gandalf would be speaking with Radagast for a while, Bilbo decided to inspect the sword Gandalf had given him. Studying the sharp, curving edges of the gleaming blade, he couldn't help the anxiousness that swelled within him. What was Gandalf thinking? He was no warrior. He'd sooner stab his own toe than an orc.

     "Tis nice, for an elvish blade," Thorin commented begrudgingly, suddenly appearing beside Bilbo. "May I see it?"

     Briefly nodding, Bilbo handed him the sword and watched in fascination as Thorin swung it this way and that, as if cutting down imaginary foes. Bilbo had never seen him wield a blade before. He knew Thorin was a skilled warrior, if only from the stories the other dwarves told, but to actually see him move with the fierce grace of one did all kinds of indecent things to Bilbo. Very unhobbit-like, really, but Bilbo decided he was not like other hobbits.

     To keep from embarrassing himself and scenting the air with his pheromones, Bilbo said, "I don't know how to use a sword.  I-I don't know how to fight.  I've never had to learn how."

     Ceasing his movements, Thorin turned back towards Bilbo with a thoughtful frown.  "While we would do everything in our power to protect you, it would settle my mind knowing that you can protect yourself.  Perhaps I can teach you how to wield a blade when we have the time and space to do so.  Is that amenable?"

     Though the task seemed daunting, Bilbo nodded decisively.  Knowing how to fight meant being able to protect his sons, Thorin, and himself.

     The air was broken by bone-chilling howls, raising the hairs on the back of Bilbo's neck unpleasantly.  "Was that a wolf?  Are there-are there wolves out there?" he stuttered.

     "Wolves?" Bofur repeated, brown eyes wide in fear.  "No, that is not a wolf."

     Crashing through the brush was the largest, ugliest wolf Bilbo had ever seen, though it was like no wolf he had ever heard of.  Thorin struck it with his newly acquired sword, plunging the blade into its neck.  Another one of those creatures leapt at them, faltering when one of Kíli's arrows pierced its hide.  When it struggled to its feet, Dwalin swung his hammer and crushed its skull.

     "Warg scouts!" Thorin spat.  "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

      "Orc pack?" Bilbo exclaimed, heart racing.  He held his arms out, catching his fauntlings as they flew towards him.  Their little bodies trembled, fresh cottony scents sharp in their terror.

     "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded of Thorin.

     "No one."

     "Who did you tell?!"

     No one, I swear," Thorin insisted.  "What in Durin's name is going on?"

     "You are being hunted," Gandalf replied grimly.

     "We have to get out of here," Dwalin growled.

     Bifur and Ori appeared at the top of the hill.  "We can't!" Ori exclaimed.  "We have no ponies.  They bolted!"

     Radagast stepped forward.  "I'll draw them off."

     "These are Gundabad wargs.  They will outrun you."  The concern in Gandalf's voice was palpable.

     "These are Rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast retorted defiantly.  "I'd like to see them try."

~~~~~

     Clutching Pippin tightly to his chest, Bilbo sprinted across the grassy plains, struggling to keep close to Balin.  Ever aware of the very close danger snapping at their heels, he fought to prevent the panic simmering in his belly from overcoming him.  Pippin's face was pressed right into his neck in an effort to keep him calm with his mother's soothing scent.  That was why his other three sons were carried by Ori, Bofur, and Dori.  Regardless of race or sex, the pheromones of all omegas were soothing to all, especially to children.  Though not quite as good as having their own mother's scent filling their noses, Sam, Merry, and Frodo clung just as readily to Dori, Bofur, and Ori.  That was why it would not do to let his own panic frighten Pippin further.

     Suddenly they came to a stop, pressing close to a boulder protruding sharply from the ground.  Slightly off in the distance, Radagast led the warg-riding orcs on a merry chase, always seeming to be just out of reach.  Finally, after a few tense moments, Gandalf deemed it safe to continue on, urging them to move quickly.  They jumped down a hill, Bilbo nearly fearing he would stumble and fall to the ground.  The sight of the orc pack chasing Radagast had them seeking cover against rock once again.

     Growls, sounding much too close, rumbled above them.  Dwalin's heavy arm pressing Pippin and Bilbo into the boulder was actually a comfort.

     "Mama," Pippin whimpered, voice barely louder than a whisper.

     "Shhh."  Pressing his lips to Pippin's head, Bilbo held him tighter.

     After a look from Thorin, Kíli quietly withdrew an arrow from his quiver.  Bilbo's heart lodged in his throat as he watched Kíli leap away from the safety of their cover and nock his arrow, letting it fly.  The warg squealed in pained outrage.  Another of Kíli's arrows soared above them, sending both the warg and its rider tumbling off the boulder.  The hideous orc stumbled towards them, sword raised.  Dwalin swung one of his axes down upon it head, stopping it in its tracks.  With quick movements, he and Bifur slew the orc and the warg, Thorin jumping forward to offer aid.

     The dying squeals of the warg must have alerted the rest of the orc pack to their presence, for Bilbo heard angry howls coming their way.

     "Move!" Gandalf yelled.  "Run!"

     Then they were off, running ever faster.  Wherever Gandalf was leading them seemed too far away.  Bilbo did not know how much farther he could go and his panic threatened to overpower him.  They reached a clearing of a sort when the orc scouts caught up with them, approaching slowly from all sides.

     "We're surrounded!" Fíli shouted, turning to face the orcs.

     Reaching Thorin, Bilbo heaved for breath and tried to sooth Pippin's trembling body with shaking hands.  Dori, Bofur, and Ori pressed close to him, most likely in attempt to allow his other fauntlings a chance to take in his scent.

     "Where is Gandalf?" someone demanded.  With a horrified jolt, Bilbo realized Gandalf had disappeared.

     "He's abandoned us!" Dwalin growled, echoing Bilbo's fears.

     "Hold your ground!" Thorin ordered, readying his sword.

     The orcs came ever closer, forcing Bilbo and the dwarves to crowd together.

     "This way, you fools!" Gandalf's voice yelled from behind them.  He stood behind a strange-looking rock.

     "Come on, move!"

     Left with no choice, Bilbo followed behind Bofur, sliding down beneath the rock into a large burrow of some sort.  The rest of the dwarves followed suit, rolling down in undignified heaps.  Would the orcs do the same?

     The sound of horns bellowed at the surface, and Bilbo thought he heard the singing of arrows.  An orc rolled down the slope, an arrow sticking out of its neck.

     Yanking the arrow from the stinking body, Thorin studied it before spitting, "Elves."  He flung it to the ground as if it was filthy.

     "I cannot see where the pathway lead," Dwalin announced, voicing echoing off the cave-like walls of the tunnel.  "Do we follow it or no?"

     "Follow it, of course!" Bofur told Dwalin, following after him.  Apparently deciding that was sound advice, the dwarves took his lead and made their way through the narrow tunnel.

     "I think that would be wise," Gandalf murmured, causing Bilbo to look at him in suspicion.  What was he up to?

     The path was narrow, winding between what might have been a cliff.  Bilbo, his size being what it was, had no problem making his way between the jagged cliff walls.  The dwarves, on the other hand, had slightly more trouble, though they pushed determinedly.  Just when Bilbo thought they would never find the end, they finally broke through.  The sight that met them took his breath away.

     Lush and green, the valley sprawled between the mountains like a hidden gem held an ethereal grace Bilbo had never seen before.  The distant roaring of waterfalls was a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

     "The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced.  "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

     "Rivendell," Bilbo breathed.  They made it.  By the skin of their teeth, they made it!  "Pippin, look!  Rivendell.  We've made it to Rivendell."

     Unable to resist Pippin's wriggling, Bilbo let him down, watching with a smile as he and his brothers stood at the edge of the cliff, all pointed fingers and excited chattering.

     "Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," Gandalf continued, apparently oblivious to the resentful grumblings of the dwarves (though the amused glint in his blue eyes suggested otherwise.)  "Home of the elves."

     "Do you hear that, Frodo?" Sam asked enthusiastically, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.  "We're going to see the elves!"

     It was not the spike of aggression in the dwarves' scents that had Bilbo grinning like a fool.

     It was the petulant frowns and the kicked-puppy expressions.

~~~~~

     Much to the dwarves' displeasure, the fauntlings took to the elves as quickly as they had taken to the dwarves themselves.  There was nothing more entertaining to Bilbo than watching the dwarves play an unsubtle game of one-sided tug of war for the boys' attention.  It did not help matters that the elves appeared to adore Bilbo's sons in return.

     "What has you smiling so?" Thorin inquired, coming to stand beside Bilbo where he sat on a retaining wall watching the boys play with Bofur and Nori where they kicked a small ball to each other using the sides of their feet.  The goal seemed to be to not let the ball hit the ground.

     Shrugging, Bilbo replied, "Nothing in particular.  Just...I'm amazed at their resilience.  And proud.  Being chased by wargs is...terrifying, yet here they are laughing and playing.  They are stronger than I am."

    "They learned it from you," Thorin insisted.  He rested his hand on Bilbo's shoulder, heavy and warm.  "They take after their mother more than you realize.  They are brave.  They are generous.  If they are stronger than you, then they are stronger than me."

     Moving to sit beside Bilbo, Thorin watched their sons play, their laughter filling the valley.  "I will always regret not being there with you, helping you raise them.  But do not ever doubt that you are the best mother our children could have ever had.  I see the best of you in them."

     All of Bilbo's omegan instincts preened at Thorin's praise.  He wanted so much to kiss Thorin right now, to have his strong arms wrapped around him.  His body recognized Thorin as his mate, and it was very confused as to why he wasn't following his instincts, but until Thorin recognized him as his One, Bilbo would not guilt him into a mate bond.

     "If they have the best of me, then they have the best of you.  When I see Sam protecting his brothers, I see you protecting your people.  I see your determination in Merry and your generosity in Pippin.  Frodo's interest in all things is your thirst for knowledge."  Pausing, if only to keep from babbling on, Bilbo watched as his boys tackled Bofur to the ground, Nori rolling on the ground in laughter.  "I, too, wish you had been there to see them grow.  But you're here now, and that's what's important."

     They sat in companionable silence, watching as Bofur began teaching the boys some sort of dance involving stomps and kicks.

     "A raven arrived this morning, bearing a letter from my sister," Thorin murmured.  "She and her envoy are almost upon Bree.  If they suffer no interruptions, they should arrive within the next couple of weeks."

     Stomach twisted in knots, Bilbo nodded wordlessly.  Dís, fierce omega and beloved sister of Thorin, was almost there.  The prospect was more than a little daunting; after all, he had birthed Thorin's sons and had not told him until he had been forced to.  The Company had apparently forgiven him, but would Dís?  If she was anything like Thorin, she would be as fiercely protective of him as he was of her.

     Ignoring that, Dís arriving meant leaving his sons behind.  The reality of it hit him then.  Anxiety slithered around his heart and squeezed.

     Something must have alerted Thorin to Bilbo's distress, for he grasped Bilbo's shoulders and gently turned Bilbo's face towards his own.  "What is wrong?"

     Struggling to find his words, Bilbo let Thorin's musky scent soothe him.  "This will be the first time I have ever been separated from the boys.  It...it frightens me."

     Understanding softened the blue of Thorin's eyes.  "Forgive me.  In my haste to begin our quest, I had not considered how you must feel about leaving our children behind.  Perhaps..."  A sigh, slow and deep, left Thorin.  He dropped his hands from Bilbo's shoulders, and Bilbo missed their steadying weight.  "Perhaps you need not come on this quest.  Stay here, visit Ered Luin with Dís, and once we have reclaimed Erebor, then you and our sons can come to Erebor." 

     Even before Thorin finished speaking, Bilbo was shaking his head.  "No.  Thorin, no.  I promised you I would help you, and I will not break my promise.  It frightens me to leave our sons behind, when we have never been separated before.  But it will be good for us," Bilbo insisted.  "It will be good for them to meet their aunt and learn more about their dwarven culture.  And...and they won't always need their mother and I'll just...I'll just need to get used to it."

     A smile, soft and fond, curved Thorin's lips, making him just that more beautiful.  "You are one of the strongest omegas I have ever known.  If our sons are anything like you, then the world will be better for it."

~~~~~

      Having made a promise to himself that he would learn how to be a good burglar, Bilbo still felt hesitant about approaching Nori to ask him to teach Bilbo how to be a good burglar.  Though Ori had somewhat explained without actually confirming what Nori's profession was, would Nori still be offended if Bilbo implied he was a burglar?  Or at least had the skills of a burglar?  This went way beyond asking Hamfast what the best way to fertilize his garden was.

     But he had made a promise to himself, so he was going to do it, just as soon as he...found...Nori.  If he could become as elusive as Nori before they reached Erebor, then Bilbo might as well make the journey by himself.  Every dwarf Bilbo came across in his search had no idea where Nori was or ended up pointing Bilbo in the wrong direction (not on purpose, Bilbo was sure...at least, he was pretty sure.)  Almost ready to throw in the towel and try again later, he stopped at the sight of Nori sprawled across a low-hanging branch, overlooking where Balin and Dori were cuddling on a bench and Dwalin and Ori were conversing with the couple.  The tree Nori sat in stood on a terrace well above where the other dwarves were.  It was unlikely they knew that they had an audience.

     Clearing his throat, Bilbo smiled nervously as Nori turned to look at him, the dagger in his hand continuing to pick at the dirt beneath his fingernails.  For all that he had welcomed Bilbo into the Company with open arms like the other dwarves had, Nori still looked like a cat waiting for just the right moment to pounce.

     "Good, ah, morning," Bilbo stuttered, plastering a pleasant smile on his face.  "Do you, uh, have a moment?  There is something I'd, uh, like to talk to you about."

     Nori considered Bilbo with narrowed brown eyes before slipping the dagger in places unknown and jumping from the tree with a grace unusual for dwarves.

     "You have my ears," Nori murmured with an easy smile.  "What is it that you'd like to speak with me about, Mister Bilbo?"

     "Well, I'd, uh..."  This was more difficult than Bilbo had imagined.  He took a fortifying breath and straightened his shoulders.  "Despite my initial protests, I am taking my role as this Company's burglar very seriously.  But...I don't know how to be a burglar.  Would you honor me by teaching me how to be a burglar?  A good one?  I mean no offense," he rushed to say.  "It's just that...Ori has sort of...said that you are very good at being sly and getting out of tough spots."

     Nori's stare was unreadable, though it wasn't angry.  Fidgeting as the silence grew uncomfortably long, Bilbo startled when Nori began laughing.

     "Why, Mister Bilbo, you flatter," Nori purred.  "Chose by Master Gandalf himself, and you ask me for help?  How can I refuse such an honor?"  Slowly walking a circle around Bilbo, he looked Bilbo up and down.  "You are correct.  I am sly and I know how to get myself out of a tough spot.  But there is more to being a skilled burglar than just that.  You must be able to think quick on your feet, which you clearly can.  You must be quick and nimble and be able to read people and figure out what makes them tick.  You must be able to tell an object's value and when something is simply not worth it."  Stopping right in front of Bilbo to look him right in the eye, Nori frowned in seriousness.  "It takes years to become a good burglar, but I believe that if you are willing and willing to work hard, I can make you a burglar good enough to slip passed a dragon.  Are you still willing?"

     "I am willing," Bilbo replied with a determined nod.  "What would you like in return for your efforts?"  Bilbo had not much to give, at least not then, but if Nori helped him help reclaim Erebor, then he would fulfill any wish Nori had.

     Surprise lifted Nori's braided brows.  "What do I want?  Nothing.  You risking yourself to help reclaim our homeland is enough for me."

     "But there must be something!  It would make me feel much better to know that you're getting something out of this, as well."

     Chuckling to himself and shaking his head, Nori grinned.  "Look, if you are so determined to...'pay' me back, then how about this?  If you use all that I have taught you to reclaim Erebor, then I will tell you what I want.  Sound reasonable?"

     Bilbo nodded.

     Rubbing his hands, Nori said, "All right, then.  Let's begin.  With enough luck, by the time we reach Erebor, I'll have made you the best burglar Middle Earth has ever seen.  You see that silver over there?  Let's practice...'acquiring it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I look at it anymore, my eyes will become permanently cross. Please, if you see any mistakes, let me know. I'm more than happy to go back and fix them!
> 
> So, there it is. I hope it was to your liking. We're not done yet with Rivendell.
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos if you'd like!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis comes to Rivendell and Bilbo has to do the most difficult thing he has ever done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had really, really wanted to post this yesterday on the 27th because yesterday was the one year anniversary of the first posting of this fic. But real life, you know? Can you believe it's been one year? I certainly can't.
> 
> I still have no idea how many chapters this fic will be, but it will cover the Battle of the Five Armies and maybe a little bit after. Of course, it will have a much happier ending than canon, so there's that to look forward to. This won't mean the end of this story, as I am planning on making it a series. There will be fics about the different pairings, little snippets of their lives after reclaiming Erebor, and of course, we have to take care of that pesky ring. I will also eventually have a fic where I write what you guys want to see. Anything that I don't go into in the main stories that you want to see, just ask and I will try to write it to the best of my ability. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and point out any mistakes you find.

     "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Mama!" Merry pleaded.  He and his brothers stood in the doorway of their temporary room, hands on their hips and impatient frowns on their faces.  "We're going to be late, and gentlehobbits are never late!"

     Running his fingers through his curls, Bilbo swallowed nervously.  The elves had spotted Dís's envoy just a bit ago, which had sent all of the dwarves into a tizzy.  Bilbo had scrambled to make his fauntlings and himself presentable, and here he was stalling.  He wasn't ready.  He had thought he was, but he really wasn't.

     "Mama, she'll be here any minute!" Pippin urged, tugging on Bilbo's sleeve.

     "All right, all right."  Bilbo let himself be pulled from the safety of their room and directed towards the main gates.  Most of the Company was already there.  If he hadn't been so consumed with his own anxiousness, Bilbo would have been stunned to see the uncomfortable expressions on the faces of the elves who were there to greet Dís and her companions.

     A comforting hand laid itself on Bilbo's shoulder, and he looked up to see Thorin smiling reassuringly at him.  Opening his mouth as if to say something, Thorin was interrupted by the blaring of horns.  The gates slowly pulled open, revealing a small group of ponies trotting towards them.  Bilbo had not the keen eyesight of the elves, but the way Fíli and Kíli nudged each other excitedly left no room for doubt as to who was approaching.

     "Amad!  Amad!" Kíli shouted enthusiastically.  He darted forward to meet the new group of dwarves, his brother not far behind.  Thorin followed at a more sedate pace.

     "Welcome, Princess Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór, to Imladris," Elrond greeted with a bow.  

     "I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond, towards myself and my kin," the dwarf Fíli and Kíli were helping dismount from her pony replied.  Her voice, husky yet not abrasive, held the same gravity, the same command Thorin's did.  "We will never forget your kindness."  She paused, sharp blue eyes searching.  "Now, where are these nephews of mine I was promised to meet?"

     Turning back towards Bilbo, Thorin beckoned encouragingly, and Bilbo knew there was no way around it.  He gently pushed his sons forward until they stood before Thorin and his sister.

     Dís was everything and nothing Bilbo had expected.  She had the same dark hair as Thorin, though hers was more intricately braided.  She had the same piercing blue eyes and strong nose.  She even had a fine dusting of hair along her angular jaw.  But unlike Thorin, she was softer, less stern.  There were less lines along her eyes and mouth.

     "Dís, namad," Thorin murmured, pride coloring his voice, "it pleases me to introduce you to my sons Samwise, Meriadoc, Peregrin, and Frodo.  There are no finer children than these."  He rested a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.  "And this is Bilbo Baggins, mother of my children and friend of my heart."

     For a moment, Dís did not speak.  She stared long and hard at Bilbo, making him swallow nervously, before breaking out into a gentle smile.  It made her breathtakingly, devastatingly beautiful.

     "And I am more than pleased to meet my nephews," she said.  "It honors me that your mother and father are entrusting me with your care.  I very much look forward to getting to know you." 

     The boys beamed at her.

     "Nadad," Dís said to Thorin, "we have much to discuss, I believe, but I would like to speak with Bilbo first."  The tone of her voice left no room for argument, though no one offered any.  She tucked her hand into the crook of Bilbo's arm and pulled him along a path that led to the gardens.

     Seemingly more interested in gazing at the delicate flowers adorning the cobblestone pathway, Dís did not speak at first.  It made the nervousness churn in Bilbo's belly.

     "When I received a letter from my brother," she began, startling Bilbo, "stating that he has sons he had not previously known the existence of, I must admit; I was furious.  What kind of omega carries and births an alpha's children without telling him?  How can a supposed friend hide the existence of Thorin's children from him for six years?"

     Each word was like a slap to the face.  Cringing, Bilbo was all too prepared for Dís to pull a knife from her cloak and slip it between his ribs.

     "But," Dís continued, seemingly oblivious to Bilbo's inner turmoil, "time has brought introspection and contemplation.  You did not seek a title or riches, for you did not know the truth of Thorin's heritage.  Yet, even now when you know who Thorin truly is, you still have not made such demands.  You are helping us reclaim our homeland when you have no cause to do so.  The fact that Thorin spoke very highly of you in his letter speaks volumes to me."  Slowing to a stop, Dís turned to face Bilbo, expression gentle but solemn.  "My anger has cooled, though I still wonder about your reasoning.  Why did you keep this from Thorin?"

     Struggling to find his words, Bilbo stuttered, "I-I had not intended to keep them secret forever.  When they would have been old enough to travel such a long distance, I was going to take the boys to the Blue Mountains to find Thorin.  I should have tried harder to get the news to Thorin, but I was afraid."

     "Afraid of what?" Dís asked softly.

     Bilbo sighed shakily.  "I was afraid that Thorin would have stayed because...because he had to, not because he wanted to.  With me."  He laughed self-depreciatingly.  "I suppose that would make me selfish.  A part of me didn't want to burden him with children from someone who is not his One, but another part of me didn't want him to come to resent me."

     This was the first time, he slowly realized, that he had ever spoken of his fears to someone else.  It felt...it felt like a pressure he hadn't realized was pressing down on him was gone.

     "Bilbo," Dís murmured, "are you...in love with my brother?"

     Her tone was so gentle, so understanding that Bilbo couldn't bring himself to feel alarmed that she had caught on so quickly.  He nodded in reply.

     "And I don't have to ask if you have told him," she said.

     "I can't, not until he...if he recognizes me has his One.  I can't burden him with this," Bilbo explained, pleading for understanding.  "I can't ask him to-to forsake his One for me.  I just...I can't."

     Sighing, as if she had been the one to just make the emotionally-draining confession, Dís gently nudged him back into walking the path.  "Did Thorin ever explain to you how dwarven Ones work?  That many times dwarves who have known each other for years don't know they are Ones until suddenly it hits them?  We still haven't figured out why this is.  If it's because Mahal is waiting for them to be ready, or some other reason.  For some dwarves, like Balin and Dori, it only takes a first meeting.  For others, like my dear Vali and me, it takes several meetings.  Perhaps...perhaps it is like that for you and Thorin."

     Grateful for her kindness, yet not holding much hope, Bilbo not so subtly changed the subject to something less soul-baring.  After all, he needed to know how to deal with Fíli and Kíli on the road.

~~~~~

      Though they valiantly tried to hide it, Bilbo's fauntlings were close to tears.  It seemed to have finally sunk in (despite Bilbo and Thorin's attempts at preparing them,) as the Company gathered their supplies and readied to continue their journey, that their mama and papa were going to leave them, if only temporarily.  It broke Bilbo's heart, tears pricking at his own eyes.

     "Oh, my loves," he whispered sadly, dropping to his knees and holding out his arms.  His sons flew into his embrace without hesitation, bodies shuddering from withheld tears.  "I will miss you and I will think of you every day.  I promise you that your papa and I will be waiting for you at the gates of Erebor."

     "Promise?" Frodo whispered, his big blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

     "I promise."  This was one he would do everything in his power to keep.  "And I need you to make me a promise, okay?  Be good to your aunt Dís and listen to her, and take care of each other.  I'm counting on you to keep each other safe."

     Their serious nods brought a smile to Bilbo's face.  Did they get that determination from Bilbo or Thorin?  Regardless, it eased the sorrow aching in his chest just a bit.  If there was anyone they loved more than their mama and papa, it was each other.

     "I love you, and I will see you before the year is over."  Giving them one last tight squeeze, Bilbo struggled to his feet and allowed Thorin to have his own moment with their sons.

     "Take care of my boys for me," Dís requested as she moved to stand beside Bilbo.  She watched with fond blue eyes as Thorin embraced his sons.  "They are passionate, so much so that sometimes it consumes them.  Don't let them lose their selves.  Sometimes...sometimes nothing is worth the cost of your soul."

     Not liking the ominous feeling he received from her words, Bilbo nodded nonetheless.  Whether they realized it or not, these dwarves were his family.  He would be damned if he let anything happen to them.

~~~~~

     The going was much slower and more arduous without ponies, as the elves had not had ones small enough for the Company to ride.  It was for the best, anyway, as they were soon approaching the Misty Mountains, which, as Gandalf had claimed, were treacherous at the best of times.

     Feeling as if he had left his heart back in Rivendell, Bilbo forced himself to carry on.  The dwarves were in good spirits, despite Bilbo's melancholy.  Dori, Nori, and Ori squabbled good-naturedly beside him.  To keep himself from becoming listless, he inquired, "Dori, how did you meet Balin?"

     Twin groans sounded from Nori and Ori as Dori lit up.  "It is quite the lovely story.  I have not the words Balin has, but I shall strive to do my best."  Pausing, as if to collect his thoughts, Dori fiddled with one of his ear cuffs.  "Ori had just been granted his apprenticeship with Balin, something which is no easy feat, let me tell you.  Balin only accepts those who are exceptional, which our Ori is.  As is customary when Masters of crafts receive new apprentices, Balin visited our home to go over the contract between master and apprentice.  Although renowned throughout the Blue Mountain for his skill and his relationship with Prince Thorin, Balin was unknown to me.  All I knew was that we could not ruin this chance for Ori."

     The pride in Dori's voice was evident, and a quick glance showed an embarrassed yet pleased smile curving Ori's lips.  "We had just set the table for dinner when there was a knock on the door," Dori continued.  "As head of our household, it was my duty to greet the Master.  I opened the door and here was the handsome, finely bred alpha standing on our doorstep.  He looked so very out of place in our humble abode.  Imagine my shock that when our eyes met, I was hit with the ingrained knowledge that he was my mate, my One.  The One who I had been waiting for all of my life."

     "What did it feel like," Bilbo found himself asking, "when you met each other's gaze?  When you knew Balin was your One?"

     Pondering over the question for a few moments, Dori turned his gaze upon Balin where he walked with Glóin and Óin.  "It felt like I finally found the missing piece of myself I hadn't realized was gone.  I saw him and I knew.  It's difficult to describe, other than it was one of the happiest days of my life."

     "Do you...do you think," Ori whispered hesitantly, "that someone you've known for a while can still be your mate, even if you haven't recognized them as your One yet?"

     His gaze was so focused on the ground that Ori didn't see Nori's sharp, narrowed look.  Bilbo did.

     "What do you mean?" Dori inquired curiously.  "Is there...is there someone you think might be your One?"

     Ori remained silent, but his furtive glance over his shoulder was enough.  There were but two dwarves walking behind them, and Bombur was already mated.  Dwalin sauntered beside him, deep in conversation and unaware of the one taking place ahead of him but a short distance away.

     While Dori's short intake of breath was one of pleasant surprise, Nori's slow release of a sigh was...well, Bilbo didn't rightly know.  Not disapproving, but not outright approving either.

     "Ori...are you sure?" Dori asked softly, concern softening the lines around his sky-blue eyes.

     Shrugging helplessly, Ori glanced behind him again.  "I...maybe?  I haven't felt the recognition yet, but, but there's something in me that says he is.  But," he rushed to say, grabbing onto Dori's thick arm and turning his beseeching gaze to both his brothers, "you mustn't say anything!  If Dwalin never recognizes me, I would forever look the fool.  I couldn't bear it!  Just...just wait."

     Though it was apparent that Dori didn't like it, he reluctantly nodded.

     "If he is your One, you couldn't ask for a better alpha," Nori murmured, to Bilbo's shock.  And to Dori and Ori's, as well, if their wide eyes were anything to go by.  "He is strong.  He will protect you and provide for you.  His loyalty is unquestionable, though his occupation I could do without."  Then Nori's green eyes turned fierce.  "But if there is ever a moment where Dwalin Fundinson takes you for granted and forgets that he is the luckiest dwarf in all of Middle Earth to have you has his omega, then I will make sure he rues the day he ever thought to break your heart."  

     Inexplicably, Nori stomped away from them, moving up the line until he reached Bofur.  Bilbo, Dori, and Ori stared after him in stunned silence.  What was all of that about?  Bilbo understood the protectiveness, for he saw it with his own sons all of the time.  But his tone of voice when describing Dwalin's suitability was...wistful?  Yearning?

     Feeling as if there was a thought niggling at the back of his mind, just waiting to be brought to light, Bilbo shrugged at Dori and Ori's confused looks.  Dwarves were strange creatures.   

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Have you guessed yet what I'm planning for Nori?
> 
> Leave a comment or kudos if you life!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goblin Town and Azog happen. Thorin comes to an important realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .............I'm still here, alive and kicking. My excuse for not posting sooner is rather a lengthy one. I began attending an actual university for the first time in August (I spent four years at my local community college, which is one of the best decisions I've ever made.) It's been wonderful, but I went through a couple of weeks really doubting my major. I arrived here as a secondary education major with an emphasis in English, but I slowly came to the conclusion that education may not be for me. So, now I'm just an English major. My motivation really went down to the drain, but now it's back! Unfortunately, this chapter is not really that long but! But! It's the chapter we've all been waiting for! I hope it passes muster.
> 
> As an aside, I want to tell you guys that some of your speculations about what I'm going to do with Nori are very interesting. To help me out, if you're going to make a guess of what I have planned so that you can get a fic from me, please start your comment as, "My guess is......" That way I know you're actually making a legitimate guess and I can tell you whether you're right or not.

     As he clung for dear life to a tree standing precariously close to the edge of a cliff, Bilbo contemplated how this had all come to be.

     Once they had reached the Misty Mountains, the Company had been besieged by a thunderstorm.  And if becoming drenched from rain and fearing being struck down by lightning were not enough, they were made an unwilling audience to the stone giants' brawl.  There had been moments when Bilbo had feared the worst, that he and Thorin and the rest of the Company were going to fall to their deaths, leaving their fauntlings as orphans.  But luck had been on their side and they made it safely to a rather small cave.

     Their first clue that something had not been right should have been Gandalf's apparent unease, but as he hadn't kicked up a fuss, the Company had settled down for the night.  An inability to sleep had led to Bilbo sitting next to Bofur as he took first watch.  The blue glow of Bilbo's blade and the sound of deep groaning were the only warnings they received before the cave floor split open beneath them, sending the Company into the plummeting darkness.  From there, it was a flurry of fear and adrenaline.  Avoiding the goblins, falling even deeper, playing a terrifying game with a twisted creature, and then fleeing for his life from said twisted creature.  Never before had Bilbo been so terrified.  That magic ring had helped, hiding him from the creature's sight somehow, but he had known not how to find his way out, if there even was a way out this deep in the mountain.

     Then, blessedly, he had heard the voices of the Company and managed to evade the mad creature.  Foolishly he had believed they were safe, away from the danger.  Oh, how he had been so very wrong.

     Now, now here Bilbo was, dangling from a bowing tree as he watched Thorin, the father of his sons, the love of his life, his alpha, stride through the fire towards Azog the Defiler.  The moment the pale orc had appeared, it had seemed as if all reason left Thorin.  Stupid, idiotic fool!  He thought he could defeat Azog?  By himself?  How could he do this to Bilbo, to their fauntlings?

     The sight of Azog's ghastly white warg grasping Thorin with its snarling teeth and flinging him aside as if he was a rag doll did not spark fear within Bilbo.  No, it was not fear.  It was anger and determination that overcame him.  That ugly orc was not allowed to take Bilbo's alpha away from him!  His omega instincts screamed at him to protect his alpha, and Bilbo could do nothing but obey.

     Pulling his blade from its sheath, Bilbo gathered all of his strength and bravery and leaped to his alpha's rescue.  As he flew into the orc that would have executed Thorin, he tried to remember everything he had been taught about using a sword.  He jabbed the orc in the chest, running on pure instinct.  Again and again he plunged his blade, anger and fear guiding his actions.  When the orc lay motionless, Bilbo scrambled to stand protectively before Thorin's prone form.

     "You will not take him from me," Bilbo growled at Azog, glaring fiercely.

     Azog smirked, igniting a fury in Bilbo that threatened to burn all reason.  Suddenly, ferocious roars pierced the air and the forms of dwarves materialized from the fire.  With an intensity to almost match Bilbo's, they cut down the wargs and their riders, harsh pheromones furiously saturating the air with their rage.  They enticed Bilbo, encouraging him to join the fray, though he was very mindful of Thorin's vulnerable state.

     Over the hissing and crackling of the fire and the growls and clangs of the battle, sharp screeches halted all movement.  Swooping down upon them were the largest birds Bilbo had ever seen, easily three times the wargs' size.  Eagles, to be exact.  One by one the dwarves were plucked from the ground, lifted high into the air, and dropped onto the back of an eagle.  With intense relief, Bilbo saw an eagle gently grasp Thorin with its talons, but he had no time to prepare for his own rescue.  Stumbling backwards away from the swooping eagle, he yelped as he tumbled over the edge of the cliff, air whooshing around him.  After falling for what seemed like an eternity, he landed on something soft and solid, the breath knocked from his lungs.

     Fíli's shout for Thorin roused Bilbo from his stupor.  There was no reply, and fear seized his heart in its icy fist.  Had it all been for naught?

     Wherever the eagles were taking them, Bilbo fervently hoped they reached it soon.   Being this high up made his head feel light and his stomach queasy, and the eagle's swooping was no help at all.

     Blessedly they made their descent, the eagles gently dropping their riders on a massively tall rock that might have resembled a roaring bear.  Though rather minuscule in comparison to the towering mountains surrounding it, it was still majestic.

     As soon as his feet touched rock, Bilbo sprinted to where Thorin had been deposited.  He remained motionless, his eyes shut.  Whether his chest rose with breath Bilbo could not tell, for it was buried beneath bulky armor.

     "Thorin, please, no," Bilbo pleaded, gripping Thorin's lax hands as tears threatened to spill.

     Coming to kneel beside him, Gandalf placed a weathered hand over Thorin's brow, muttering unintelligibly.  Bilbo found himself holding his breath, watching with anxious eyes.  Only when Thorin's gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open did Bilbo release his breath in a hiss.

     "Bilbo?" Thorin murmured in a questioning tone.

     "It's all right," Gandalf replied, his voice soft.  "Bilbo is here.  He's quite safe."

     Thorin struggled to his feet with the aid of Dwalin and Kíli, causing Bilbo to scramble to his own.  Seeing Thorin stand there, bruised, bloody, and barely holding himself up made an inexplicable rage rise up within Bilbo.

     "What were you doing?" he snarled, his primal omega side satisfied with his alpha's stunned flinch.  "You nearly got yourself killed!  Did you not think of what that would do to me?  To our sons?  Did you only think of your vengeance?"

     He would have spewed more, his anger and his fear wanting him to punish his alpha for risking himself, but a firm mouth claimed his own, stopping him in his tracks.  Gasping, Bilbo couldn't help but cling to Thorin, clutching at his broad shoulders.  The way Thorin nipped at Bilbo's mouth made his toes curl.  A groan rumbled in Thorin's chest, and a purr reverberated in Bilbo's in response.  Slowly, ever so slowly that Bilbo almost didn't notice, Thorin gently nudged him away, broad hands hot bands around Bilbo's hips.  Their mouths pulled apart with a wet pop.  Bilbo whined at the loss.

     "What?" he mumbled, blinking slowly and finding it difficult to focus.  Thorin's scent, so warm and musky, settled over him like a cozy blanket.  Perhaps, too, the shock of Thorin of kissing him had sent him into some sort of a daze.

     "I have been a fool," Thorin murmured in a rueful voice.  His eyes flitted over Bilbo's face as if he was seeing him for the first time.  "Azyungâl, please forgive me.  I am ashamed of how easily I lost myself in my rage.  I have failed in my duty and, and...if you can find it within your heart to forgive me, I will spend the rest of our lives proving myself to you."

     Thoughts still a bit jumbled, Bilbo struggled to grasp what Thorin was saying.  "Az-yun-gal?  What-what is that?  Thorin, I don't understand."

     "Bilbo, you are my One."  Bilbo could only gape.  Thorin, seeing his stunned reaction, lowered his eyes, looking unsure.  "I...I do not know why Mahal waited so long to show me when...when we could have had more time together.  I will, that is, I mean, if you will allow me to, I will spend all of our years together trying to be the alpha you deserve."

     Thorin was saying he...Bilbo...was his One?  Not knowing whether he wanted to laugh or cry, Bilbo stood up on his toes and claimed Thorin's mouth.  Ignoring the cheers and whistles erupting behind them, he sunk his fingers into Thorin's thick mane.  It was all he could do to not climb Thorin like he would a tree.  Every instinct he'd ignored clamored for him to claim his alpha, but he couldn't do it, not yet.  Thorin was still too weak and the Carrock was too open.  Soon, though.  It would happen soon if the way Thorin devoured his mouth and clutched him tightly were any indications.

~~~~~

     Apparently Mahal had decided the Company was ready for his gifts, for Thorin was not the only one to have recognized his One.  No sooner had Thorin and Bilbo pried themselves apart then they saw Fíli cautiously approaching Bofur.  Whatever Thorin's nephew said had Bofur grinning like a loon and pulling Fíli in for a rather enthusiastic kiss.  The sight of Dwalin dropping to his knees before Ori as if the wide-eyed dwarf had hit him over the head with his own hammer caused Bilbo to smile.  His suspicions were proved correct when Ori leaped at Dwalin, his enthusiasm earning himself a few amused chuckles.

     When no one else appeared to be intent on claiming their mate, Gandalf deemed it safe to begin their descent of the Carrock.  Bilbo was more than happy to be the one to aid Thorin down, the heavy arm Thorin slung over his shoulders a welcome burden.  Miraculously, despite the Company's injuries and obvious exhaustion, they managed to stumble to solid ground without falling to their deaths.  They traveled as far as they could, attempting to put as much distance between them and Azog.  Eventually, Gandalf granted the Company mercy and stopped them to make camp before they lost the light.

     Though it was clear that it chafed him to do so, Thorin was forced to sit and rest while the rest of the Company bustled about.  When Bilbo moved to help, though he was reluctant to leave Thorin's side, an arm curled around his waist and pulled him flush against his mate.  He didn't put up much of a fuss, content to feel Thorin warm, breathing, and alive.  A pleased blush bloomed across his cheeks as Thorin nuzzled his hair, taking big snuffling breaths.

     Night found the Company crowded around a crackling fire, enjoying some rabbit Kíli had managed to hunt.  Curled up beside Thorin, full and content, Bilbo sighed happily.  He just needed his boys snuggled up with him and it would be perfect.  It almost seemed surreal that he could finally have Thorin the way he always wanted.

     Glancing around at all of the battered yet jovial faces, Bilbo once again caught Nori wearing a strange expression.  He appeared fine enough, speaking when spoken to and smiling at his brothers.  But occasionally, and almost so subtly that Bilbo might have missed them had Nori not taught him how to watch for tells, he threw furtive glances Ori and Dwalin's way.  They were all pressed together, Ori, Nori, and Dori with their respective mates (excluding Nori) bracketing them, so it really wasn't that weird for Nori to look in their direction.  But, though Bilbo couldn't say for sure, those looks seemed to hold a sort of longing.  When Nori looked towards Dori and Balin, there was no longing to be found.

     Was he envious that his brothers' had found their mates and he had not?  Or was it something deeper?  The way he had talked about Dwalin left Bilbo wondering if, perhaps, Nori...felt something for Dwalin.  Could a dwarf be attracted to someone who wasn't their One?

     "A diamond for your thoughts?" Thorin rumbled, startling Bilbo into looking up.  He saw his mate smiling softly at him.

     Though hesitant to discuss Nori's personal business, Bilbo felt concerned.  "Is it...possible for a dwarf to be in love with someone who is not their One?  Who already...has...a One?"

     Brow furrowed, Thorin stared contemplatively into the fire.  "I...have not heard of such a thing occurring.  If a dwarf is in love with another dwarf who finds their One, any attraction between them is often gone.  I suppose it may be possible for the dwarf to still long for the other, even if the other is mated.  Though I don't believe Mahal would be so cruel."

     "What if...what if the dwarf is the other dwarf's mate, too, but Mahal has decided they are not...ready yet?  After all, there must have been a reason why you did not immediately recognize me as your One even though I've bore your children."  Though Bilbo would be eternally grateful that it happened, why did it have to take nearly six years?  Had Mahal deemed them unworthy until Thorin had nearly died?

     "Perhaps?" Thorin responded, his tone unsure.

     "So, triads can exist?"

     Thorin took a long time in responding, though Bilbo knew he hadn't offended him because Thorin continued to caress Bilbo's hand.  When he did speak, his voice was thoughtful.  "I have not come across records that depict such a situation, but I also did not spend much time in Erebor's libraries before Smaug came.  Perhaps Balin would know if such a thing could happen."

     That actually sounded like a good idea.  If anyone would know, it would be Balin.  But that was for another day.  At the moment, Bilbo couldn't imagine leaving the comfort and security of Thorin's side.

 

 

    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company recuperates at Beorn's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *prostrates herself in front of everyone* I am so, so, so, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait! I have no excuse other than RL and that this chapter fought me a bit. Unfortunately, it's not very long to make up for how long I've made you wait, but there is smut in it.
> 
> Concerning my "contest" about my plans for Nori, jaimistoryteller is the winner! The endgame for Nori is to eventually become a triad with Dwalin and Ori. For this universe, Nori and Ori will not be sexual with each other; their relationship will remain platonic. However, once they are comfortable with this kind of relationship, they will be comfortable with being slightly closer than brothers usually are. That means they are okay with having close contact during a threesome with Dwalin, though they will only touch each other in comfort, if that makes sense. I really enjoyed reading your thoughts and guesses about my plans for Nori, and some of them have sparked some ideas for potential fics. I don't know. We shall see.
> 
> For the rest of you, I eventually will take prompts to write other stories, but it won't be for a while. I'll let you know when I'm able to do this, which will probably be when this fic is finished.
> 
> If there are any mistakes, please let me know so that I can fix them! Constructive criticism is also welcome!

 

     Though it was only temporary, it felt nice to be able to stop and take a breather.  Admittedly, the Company's first introduction to Beorn hadn't been the most pleasant.  But despite their host's...other nature, his home was quite lovely.  Even the animals under his care, as unsettlingly large as they were, were rather endearing.  The puppies would have especially enthralled Bilbo's fauntlings.

     A pang shot through Bilbo's heart at the thought of his boys, but it was a feeling he was becoming used to.  He briefly wondered about how they were doing with Dís, if they were causing as much mischief as they usually did.  Though he figured Dís could handle them just fine.

     His thoughts took him leisurely through Beorn's flower fields, and Bilbo basked in the sweet aromas drifting from the swaying plants.  This was the first time Thorin had let Bilbo out of his sight since...well, since the Carrock.  "Let" might have been a bit generous.  When Thorin had been pulled into a discussion with Gandalf and Beorn, Bilbo took the opportunity to slip away.  As much as he reveled in his mate's attention, he still needed some time to himself.  And when presented with the opportunity to enjoy nature's beauty without fear of attack, Bilbo unquestionably took it.

     Just as he decided that he ought to head back to the hall, he stumbled upon Bofur sitting at the base of an oak tree.

     "I see you've managed to shake off your alpha, as well," Bofur commented with a grin, looking up from where he was carving some sort of figure.

     Grinning in return, Bilbo replied, "Tricky creatures, those alphas.  Mind if I join you?"  Sliding down against the tree so that he was pressed against Bofur's side, he felt himself relax further as he was enveloped in Bofur's honeyed scent.  "What are you making?"

     "This?"  Bofur held up the figurine.  "This is my Gift to Fíli.  One of them, anyways.  Why do you think I'm way out here?  Bad luck for my mate to see his Gift before it's ready."

     "But, I thought your craft was singing?  Wouldn't your Gift be a-a song?"

     The lascivious wink Bofur threw his way made Bilbo blush, though he couldn't help smiling.  "Oh, I have that, too.  But that Gift is, ah, more for private, if you know what I mean."

     "May I?" Bilbo inquired politely, tilting his head towards the wooden figure.  With a nod, Bofur placed it in his proffered hand.  It spanned his entire palm, though it was rather light for its size.  A lion, Bilbo realized, and an excellently carved one at that despite Bofur's claim that it wasn't ready.  The detail into which Bofur payed made the lion look very real, though Bilbo had never seen one in person before.  He looked closer and noticed Khuzdul carved in tiny figures along the lion's spine.  "Bofur...this is amazing."

     Though he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, Bofur's shy smile told a different story.  "When I was but a wee lad, a traveling circus came to the Blue Mountains.  I can't remember where they came from, but they had the most incredible animals.  One of which was this absolutely gorgeous lion.  Big, beautiful mane, sleek, powerful body.  Even when doing his tricks, he held himself regally."  Taking the wooden lion back, he huffed out a laugh.  "I must have pestered my Ma and Da to death.  I wanted to know everything there was to know about lions."

     "And Fíli reminds you of this lion?"

     Bofur hummed, returning to his carving.  "Despite the, heh, physical similarities, Fíli is...Fíli is everything an alpha should be.  Loyal.  Brave.  Fierce.  I know that he will protect and provide for me and any children we might have.  But he also respects that I am a capable fighter and would never dishonor me by treating me as if I was weak."

     Touched by the thought Bofur had put into his Gift, Bilbo brushed his cheek against Bofur's shoulder.  A sudden thought came to him.  "Shouldn't I be making a Gift for Thorin, then?"  Oh, dear.  What could he make that would be worthy of Thorin?  He couldn't exactly grow anything while on this quest, and he had no other...craft to speak of.

     A gentle touch to his shoulder brought him from his thoughts.  "Bilbo, you have already given him the greatest Gift a dwarf could ever hope for," Bofur murmured, voice gentle.  When Bilbo stared at him blankly, he added, "Your sons.  Thorin is not expecting anything more.  They are more precious than any other Gift."

     Shoulders relaxing, though he hadn't realized they had bunched up nearly to his ears, Bilbo bit his lip.  "I know, but...I still want to.  Thorin deserves everything.  But I don't know what I can make that would be worthy."

     They sat in companionable silence as they mulled over ideas.  Traveling made crafting difficult, but Bilbo was determined.  What could he make that Thorin would appreciate?  What would speak of Thorin while also speaking of Bilbo's devotion to him?  Fumbling through his pockets, he pulled out his pipe, taking comfort from its familiar form.  He stared down at it as his thoughts swirled, slowly taking shape.

     "I could make him a pipe," Bilbo said slowly, hope blooming in his chest.  "His other one broke in Goblin Town and, and I know how much he misses it."  Lifting his gaze to meet Bofur's, he couldn't help the excitement from bleeding into his voice.  "What if...what if I make Thorin a new pipe?  I still remember some of the carvings on the other one, and I could add something of, of me."

     "That's a wonderful idea, Bilbo!" Bofur exclaimed with a laugh.

     Bilbo smiled in relief.  Filled with a new sense of purpose, he put his pipe away.  Then he paused.  "But where am I going to get briarwood?  This is all oak."  Oak was no good for pipe-making, he needed briarwood.  But where could he find it?

     From beside him, Bofur rifled through his numerous pockets, grumbling and muttering to himself.  Suddenly he gave a victorious laugh and brandished a crudely carved pipe.  "It looks like you are in luck, my friend.  I started this a while ago but never got around to finishing it.  Briarwood, like it should be.  Lucky I didn't lose it in Goblin Town."

     Taking the pipe reverently, Bilbo hugged Bofur with one arm.  "Thank you," he breathed.  "You are a good friend."

     Blushing despite his grin, Bofur rubbed his bearded cheek against Bilbo's smooth one, scent-marking him.  "We're family."

     As if that explained everything.  But, Bilbo supposed, it really did.

~~~~~

     Being given a pipe that was half-way done saved Bilbo a lot of time.  He just needed to refine it and add his carvings.  Bofur had mentioned that Bifur had some stain he could use when the pipe was ready.  It was coming along quite nicely, if Bilbo did say so himself.  Given enough opportunity, he figured he'd have it finished in a couple days.  Time enough to give it to Thorin before they left for Mirkwood.

     Sequestered as he was away from the hall, leaning against a tree surrounded by tall bushes, Bilbo did not expect Balin and Dori to suddenly appear before him.  One moment he was humming a quiet tune, carving diligently, and the next moment he was startling hard enough to nick his thumb.

     "Oh, good afternoon, Master Bilbo," Dori greeted, gracefully ignoring Bilbo's muttered cursing.  "What is it you're working on, there?"

     "Uh, this?  This is, uh...well, it's a...a Gift.  For Thorin," Bilbo stuttered.  He turned the pipe over in his hands, hesitant to meet their eyes.  "It'll be ready in a couple of days, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't, uh, tell Thorin about this."

     Holding up a wrinkled hand, Balin smiled affably.  "Say no more, laddie.  Mind if we join you?  These old bones could do with a bit of rest."

     Bilbo nodded, scooting over so Balin and Dori could rest against the tree, as well.  They sat in silence, enjoying the gentle breeze that brought whiffs of the gentle sweetness of Beorn's flowers.  Though muted, Bilbo could hear the raucous shouts of the others, no doubt causing mischief.  Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw Balin and Dori leaning against each other, trading soft touches and chaste kisses.

     Heart yearning, though it was only because he knew he would one day be able to experience that with Thorin, Bilbo was hesitant to break the peaceful moment (they weren't afforded many moments like these on a quest like this one.)  But his concern for Nori prompted him to ask, "Balin, has there ever been a time where a dwarf...had more than one mate?"

     "More than one mate?" Balin mused with a considering look.  "Why do you ask?"

     "Oh!  I'm not asking for me," Bilbo rushed to clarify.  "Thorin has made no indication that there might be someone else.  I'm only curious.  Is it possible?  I asked Thorin about it, and he said to ask you.  That if anyone would know, it would be you."

     "I can't say that any dwarves alive have more than one mate, but..."  Balin hummed as he stared, unseeing, into the distance.  "But if I recall correctly, I might have come across something that mentioned a Triad.  It would have been a long time ago, not too long after the Seven Fathers established their kingdoms.  Two alphas and an omega, I believe.  Caused quite the stir, as a Triad had never occurred before, though nothing was done about it.  Who would question Mahal's will?  I cannot say if there have been any other Triads, but anything is possible."

     "So, if a dwarf has more than one mate, what does it mean if he has recognized one mate but not the other?"

     "The ways of Mahal are unknown to us, Master Bilbo," Dori explained, leaning forward to meet Bilbo's gaze.  "He decides when we are ready for our mates.  Who knows why Balin and I were ready for each other when we first met, yet it took many years for Ori and Dwalin.  All we can do is wait patiently and make ourselves worthy."

     If Nori was Dwalin's mate, as well, and Bilbo had a very strong feeling that he was, then why had Mahal not deemed him ready?  Why Ori now and not Nori, too?  Humming in thought, Bilbo returned to his carving, having decided that he couldn't risk any more questions.  Hope, cautious as it was, began to take root.  If a, a Triad had happened once, who was to say it couldn't happen again?

     "Well," Dori sighed after several moments of comfortable silence, "I have seen neither hide nor hair of Nori, which can mean nothing good.  I fear I must find him before he can upset our host any more than our presence already has.  Stay here, my love, and enjoy this reprieve while we have it."

     It wasn't until Dori was out of sight that Bilbo felt the pressure of Balin's scrutiny.  Hesitantly meeting narrowed blue eyes, he felt much like he had when his mother knew he wasn't telling the truth.

     "Considering the monogamous nature of all the races, I'm curious as to why you would ask about Triads.  The knowledge of such a thing is not common even amongst dwarves."  Bushy white eyebrows arched high like crescent moons as Balin stared questioningly at Bilbo.  "Either you have miraculously come across a text mentioning this phenomena, or there is more than what you have told me."

     Swallowing nervously, Bilbo dropped his gaze to the pipe clutched tightly in his hand.  "If I tell you this, you must promise me that you will not tell a soul.  Not even Dori.  Please."

     After a pause, Balin murmured, "I swear I will not breathe a word of what you say to anyone."

     Bilbo forced himself to return to his carving and found that the repetitive motion helped him calm and focus.  "I have reason to believe that...Nori might be Dwalin's mate, as well."

     "What has led you to believe this?"

     "There have been times where I have seen Nori...watching Dwalin," Bilbo explained, relieved that Balin hadn't immediately rebuffed him.  "At first I thought he was simply being protective over his family or, or even envious that his brothers had mates and he does not.  But...but then...I began noticing that he was staring more at Dwalin, not at you and Dori.  And then, there was something he said to Ori not too long ago after we had set out from Rivendell.  Ori had told Dori of his hope that Dwalin would be his One, and the Nori spoke of Dwalin made me think that, perhaps, there was something there.  He has not told me anything, but instinct is telling me that Nori...desires Dwalin.  And that has to me they are mates, right?"  Bilbo couldn't help but plead.  These dwarves, his dwarves, deserved every bit of happiness they could get, and he wanted to help them get that.

     Balin was silent for several long moments.  "You are correct in that Nori is very protective of his family, though he may not always show it.  He had made sure that I was worthy of Dori before the courtship was completed.  His...relationship with Dwalin has been interesting, to say the least.  At first they did not get along.  Nori resented Dwalin's position as Captain of the Guard, and Dwalin was less than pleased by Nori's...sticky fingers."  Huffing out a chortle, Balin grinned.  "It was not until after they had nearly come to blows over Nori stealing an ear cuff that they seemed to settle their differences.  To be quite honest, I was rather surprised when it was Ori whom Dwalin recognized, not Nori."

     Gaze flying to Balin, Bilbo asked, "So you do think it's possible that they could be a Triad?"

     "Laddie, I will not make false claims, but there will always be a possibility.  Only time can tell.  If Nori is indeed Dwalin's mate with Ori, then something is preventing him from being ready.  Think on that."

~~~~~

     Bilbo still marveled over the fact that he could now watch Thorin undress without the fear of being discovered.  He could stare for as long as he liked, drinking in every inch of tanned skin that was revealed.  What made it all that more heady was the he was being watched in return.  Preening under his mate's hungry gaze, Bilbo unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders.  Pleased with the glazed look he received when he shimmied out of his trousers, he decided to forgo his nightshirt.  The night was rather warm and he had _plans_.

     "When will we be leaving?" he inquired.  He ruffled through his knapsack, searching for the pipe.

     Thorin cleared his throat.  "At first light.  Beorn has promised us use of his ponies, though only until we reach Mirkwood."  If he had spoken of Rivendell with disdain, then it was with pure loathing that he spoke of Mirkwood.  Bilbo feared what might happen if they were to come face to face with Thranduil.

     Finding his quarry, Bilbo turned to face Thorin, making sure the pipe was hidden behind his back.  He shivered when he met his mate's dark gaze, the desire there evident.  Musky alpha pheromones lay thick in the air.  Bilbo felt his body respond, his ass beginning to produce slick after seeing his mate's gorgeous body laid out before him.

     Before he became distracted, he gave himself a firm shake.  "I know we've went about things rather backwards, but I still wanted to give you a Courting Gift.  It's...it's not much, and, and I had some help, but..." he trailed off, starting to feel a little nervous.  He stumbled onto the bed and hesitantly held the pipe out.  "Here."

     With a dry throat, he watched as Thorin gently took the pipe out of his hand.  For several long moments, Thorin said nothing, only studied Bilbo's Gift.  A thumb brushed over the acorn Bilbo had painstakingly carved into the same spot as the one on his own pipe.  It was not a perfect match, but Bilbo thought it was a good mix of him and Thorin.

     "Bilbo," Thorin murmured, blue eyes finally lifting from the pipe, which was cradled against his broad chest.  "You..."  He shook his head.  A small smile played at his lips.  "You are the most perfect creature I have ever met.  I do not deserve you, yet somehow Mahal has deemed me worthy.  I will treasure this always.  Azyungâl."

     Twisting to carefully slip the pipe into his knapsack, he then reached for Bilbo with outstretched arms.  Bilbo fell into them without hesitation and allowed his mouth to be claimed.  Pressing as close to his mate as he could, he moaned when calloused hands cupped his backside.  Warmth spread from his belly, reaching every nook and cranny until his whole body writhed.  He felt himself harden against Thorin's belly and shivered as his cock slid across the trail of dark hair.

     Every nerve thrummed with pleasure, every inch of skin prickled with sensation, but it was unlike his heat.  Bilbo was not consumed, though he ached for Thorin to be inside him.  He could now fully appreciate the textures and tastes and smells of Thorin's body without the heat clouding his senses.

     Pulling away, he trailed kisses along Thorin's sturdy jawline.  "I love you, Ghivashel."  The strange dwarven word stumbled off his tongue, but it was worth that discomfort to watch his mate smile adoringly.

     Then Bilbo found himself on his back, gazing up at his looming mate.  Without breaking eye contact, Thorin pressed hot, wet kisses down Bilbo's belly, moving tortuously slow until he hovered over Bilbo's stiff cock.  Bilbo quivered, gasping at each touch and arching as Thorin swallowed him down.  He clutched his mate's head, pulling the dark hair when Thorin hummed around his aching shaft.  A thick finger gently pressed against his hold, rubbing the slick ring of muscle before slipping inside.  Bilbo groaned, torn between pushing back onto Thorin's finger and thrusting up into Thorin's mouth.  His mate's wicked tongue dragged its way from base to tip and lapped up the precome beading at the head of his cock.  The finger slid ever deeper, pulled by Bilbo's clenching muscles, and prodded until stars burst across Bilbo's closed eyelids.

     Whether it was the fact that it had been so long since Bilbo had pleasured himself or that it was finally Thorin touching him out of true desire, Bilbo felt his climax fast approaching.  He whined and pulled harder at Thorin's head, urging him to move where Bilbo's mouth could claim him, but Thorin refused to budge.  Instead, he pushed a second finger in alongside the first and took Bilbo's cock deep in his throat.

     Bilbo gulped for air, and in doing so, breathed in the heavy musk of Thorin's arousal.  Clean linens enriched by head spices.  "Thorin, please!"  His hands trembled as he clumsily patted Thorin's bobbing head.

     With a wet pop, his cock slid from Thorin's reddened mouth.  Thorin suckled at the head as he pressed his fingers against that bundle of nerves.  And like one of Gandalf's fireworks, Bilbo's orgasm burst from him.  He keened as he spilled his release into Thorin's mouth, his body curling forward to cradle Thorin's head, his fingers pulling Thorin's hair.  He shook as his mate milked him for everything he had.  Only when Bilbo began to push Thorin away due to over stimulation did Thorin pull his fingers from Bilbo's body and let Bilbo's softening cock slip from his mouth.

     Through half-lidded eyes, Bilbo watched Thorin push himself to his knees and crawl forward to straddle Bilbo's hips.  Heat radiated from Thorin's body and his scent grew ever more potent.  Thorin brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking them lewdly, and with a jolt, Bilbo realized it was his own slick that had his mate's eyes rolling back in pleasure.  With his other hand, Thorin tugged on his thick cock.  An angry red, it jutted proudly from a thick thatch of black hair.  Though he wanted it inside of him, Bilbo knew he wouldn't be able to take any more for the moment (he wasn't an old hobbit, by any means.  Where was his stamina, dammit!)

     The deep, rumbling groans coming from Thorin's chest had Bilbo baring his neck.  Thorin fell forward, catching himself just before he crushed Bilbo.  His hand moved faster on his cock, and with one last growl, he came.  Thick spurts of come landed on Bilbo's belly, causing it to jump.  There was no knot swollen at the base of Thorin's cock, he saw, so dwarves were similar to hobbits in that regard.  Alphas only knotted during a rut or a heat, which Bilbo was grateful for.  Otherwise, he'd be a lot messier.

     When no more would spill from his cock, Thorin began rubbing his release into Bilbo's skin with languid strokes.  "Until I can claim you properly," he murmured against Bilbo's lips.  A claiming bite only took during an omega's heat.  Even then, the omega had to bite the alpha back for the bond to be cemented in place.

     Bilbo wrinkled his nose but accepted his alpha's need to claim.  As gross as it was, he would deal with it.  Perhaps he would return the favor.  His omega instinct purred at the thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was sufficient. Please leave a comment or a kudos, if you like!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo must figure out how to get the Company out of Mirkwood, and then they meet Bard of Laketown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...............I'm still alive? Yay? I feel absolutely awful for not updating in almost eight months, but believe me when I say that I have not abandoned this story. Life is just rough, you know? School sucks a lot of inspiration and motivation from me, work was incredibly busy over the summer, and I had no idea how I wanted this chapter to go. I had a difficult time knowing where to start and where I wanted to end. I'm still not entirely happy with this one, but here it is. Thank you so much for your patience and for not giving up on me! I promise that we will see this fic to its end!

  

     The fear of spiders had never plagued Bilbo before. Sure, the little creatures were creepy and he definitely did not want one crawling on him, but he'd never shrieked in terror at the sight of a spider. His unflappability had earned him the title of Spider Conqueror (courtesy of Pippin,) and he had carried out his job with calm acceptance. The alternative was four screaming fauntlings clinging to his legs every time an eight-legged friend popped up in one room of Bag End or another, and then he wouldn't have been able to get anything done.

     Now, though, after having battled his way through the treacherous depths of Mirkwood, Bilbo knew he would never be able to see a spider again without feeling the prickling sensation of every single hair on his body standing up on end and the suffocating fear. The spiders that lurked in Mirkwood's shadows were monsters. Enormous, grotesque things with a taste for human flesh. Bilbo shuddered. No, we would have to resign from his position as Spider Conqueror and leave it to someone else. Not for the first time was he so utterly grateful his sons were safe with Thorin's people, that they hadn't been forced to endure the horrors of Mirkwood. The spiders alone would have paralyzed them, making them easy targets. But their presence would not have allowed Bilbo to hide using his magic ring and formulate a plan to break the Company out of the dungeons and escape from Mirkwood.

     Which, admittedly, was not going as smoothly as he wanted.  Elves patrolled the vast halls relentlessly, and though they would not be able to see him, they would be able to hear him if he wasn't careful.  He tiptoed in the shadows and pressed close against the wall when he could.  Thranduil's hall was as different from Elrond's as a Took was from a Baggins.  Though both elven realms embodied nature's beauty, they did so in opposite ways.  Elrond's realm reflected nature's grace and serenity, its fragility and its peacefulness.  Thranduil's realm, on the other hand, embodied nature's wildness and harshness, its savagery and its ferocity.  Beorn had been right; the elves of Mirkwood were not like their kin.

     Peering around a corner, Bilbo saw no one and took his chance to dart across the hall to slap past a door left slightly ajar.  He followed the murmuring sound of voices, careful to tread lightly, and came upon two elves.  The one whose back was turned towards Bilbo wore the same leather as those who had captured the Company, which left the elf looking slightly bulky.  White blond hair cascaded freely over broad shoulders though a thin braid lay delicately over it.  The elf stood at attention, hands clasped behind a ramrod-straight back, as another elf spoke to him.  This elf took Bilbo's breath away.  He had the same white blond hair, a silver circlet adorning the impossibly long mane, though he stood taller and broader.  Pale skin stretched over regal features and even from this distance, Bilbo thought those were the most piercing blue eyes he had ever seen.  Were it not for the sweet and earthy omegan pheromones thickening the air, Bilbo would have thought he was spying upon two alphas.

     "I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past," the elf facing Bilbo sad.  His voice was deep and sensual.  Was this Thranduil, King of Mirkwood?

     "We cleared the forest as ordered, father, but more spiders keep coming up from the south," the other elf responded.  "They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur.  If we could kill them at their source-"

     "That fortress lies beyond our borders," Thranduil interrupted.  "Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures.  That is your task, Legolas.  I cannot and will not risk my only son and heir, and going beyond our kingdom would put you in danger.  Do you understand?"

     "...yes, father."  The resigned, put-upon tone coloring Legolas' voice was a familiar one.  It seemed not even elves were above the age-old struggle between parent and child.

     Not wishing to push his luck, Bilbo began to carefully backtrack out of what was possibly Thranduil's private quarters.  But the king's next words froze him to the spot.

     "Galaeron said one of Oakenshield's kin stared at you as you were escorting the dwarves to the dungeons.  Spoke very familiarly with you, even."  Eyes narrowed, Thranduil tilted his head as he watched his son.  As if daring Legolas to confirm it.

     Turning away from his father, Legolas mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Galaeron needs to learn how to keep his pointed nose out of everyone else's business."  In a louder voice, he calmly said, "I cannot say whether he watched me or not, but yes, the dwarf did speak to me.  I didn't have the means to prevent it, and I do not think Thorin Oakenshield would have tolerated me gagging his nephew.  It was merely...a captive feeling out his captor.  Nothing more, I assure you."

     Thranduil hummed, moving to lift a jug from a side table and pour what might have been wine into a goblet.

     "I am familiar with the pretty words that dwarves can weave together as masterfully as they forge their metals.  Do not let that Durin son fool you.  Dwarves care naught but for their treasures, and those of the line of Durin are the worst.  They destroy everything in their lust for gold."  Gliding around until Legolas was forced to look at him, Thranduil grasped his son's shoulder and stared intently at him.  "The line of Durin is cursed, _ionneg_ , and that dwarf is not your _meleth_."

    Despite his fascination with elvish culture, Bilbo had little knowledge of their language, though whatever that word was (me-meleth?) caused Legolas to stiffen.

     "Don't be ridiculous."  Legolas' voice was emotionless, a juxtaposition to the rigid line of his body.  "What could have possibly made you think that I would have entertained such thoughts?"

     Thoughts twisting in a jumbled mess, Bilbo slowly backed up until he could no longer hear the two elves' voices.  He obviously needed to search elsewhere for a potential escape route, but his feet carried him back to the little hidey-hole he had found near the dungeons that first day in Thranduil's halls.  Curling up into a tight ball, Bilbo tried to process what he had just heard.  Which nephew had they been speaking of?  Fíli?  Kíli?  He highly doubted that Fíli had been focusing on anything other than Bofur, but why would Kíli have been staring after Legolas?  And what did meleth mean?  And what curse had Thranduil been talking about?

     Frustration burned at Bilbo's throat.  Too many questions with not enough answers, and they were running out of time before Durin's Day.  But Bilbo couldn't give up on searching for an escape; the dwarves were counting on him and, most importantly, his fauntlings were waiting for their Mama and Papa to come back to them.

     _Tomorrow_ , he thought.  _Tomorrow I will find a way out_.

~~~~~

     Dwarves, as endearing as they could be, were the most ridiculous creatures of Middle Earth.  From the moment Bard had let his presence be known, the dwarves had done nothing to hide their distrust of him.  Instead of thanking him for taking them across the lake, they made threats of throwing him overboard.  The Baggins propriety rankled.

     "His name is Bard," Bilbo said through gritted teeth.  If they were going to insult the man, they should at least have the decency to call him by his name.

     Thorin's head whipped around.  "How do you know his name?" he growled, blue eyes narrowed.

     "Uh, I asked him," Bilbo replied with his hands on his hips.  Honestly, these dwarves were worse than children.

     "I don't care what he calls himself.  I don't like him," Dwalin grumbled, one thick arm squeezing Ori tight to his side.  He sent Bard baleful looks, which, granted, was understandable seeing as the Man had aimed his bow at Ori.

     Always the voice of reason, Balin said, "We do not have to like him.  We simply have to pay him.  Come on now, lads, turn out your pockets."

     As the dwarves searched their pockets and bickered amongst themselves, Bilbo felt an arm snake around his waist.  He allowed it to pull him against Thorin and begrudgingly allowed his mate a kiss.  Thorin's warmth and musky scent eased the tension in Bilbo's body.  Rumbling in approval as Bilbo sagged against him, Thorin pressed another kiss to Bilbo's mouth.

     "Forgive me for my...rude behavior," he murmured.  "We are so close to Erebor and I find myself...impatient."

     Bilbo hummed in understanding.  "Just try to be nice?  For me?  As Balin said, you don't have to like him, but...please.  The Man _is_ helping us."

     Thorin's nod was reluctant, Bilbo could tell.  As a reward, he bared his neck and allowed Thorin to scent-mark the spot just below his jaw where his claiming bite will eventually go.  It settled Bilbo just as much as it did Thorin; there was a certain anxiety that simmered at the knowledge that Bilbo was still unclaimed.  It wouldn't happen until Bilbo went into heat again, so scent-marking helped ease the irrational fear that some foe, be it alpha or omega, could swoop in and steal one of them away.

     "Thorin," someone (Fíli?) murmured, drawing Thorin's attention away from Bilbo.  The sudden tension thrumming from Thorin's body made Bilbo frown.  Turning, Bilbo squinted through the thick curtain of fog, attempting to see what had captivated the entire Company.  Sunlight peeked through, revealing a single, lonely peak, and realization struck.  The Lonely Mountain.  That was the Lonely Mountain.  They were close, much closer than when Bilbo had first laid eyes upon the mountain from the Carrock.

     Hope burned anew.  Looking back at his mate, seeing the awestruck, overwhelmed, homesick look on his beloved's face, Bilbo knew he would do absolutely anything to help his dwarf, his dwarves, get Erebor back.

     Though he hadn't thought that anything would include being shoved back into Thranduil's barrels with stinky fish and climbing through Bard's toilet just to be able to get into Laketown.

     _Be thankful, Bilbo_ , he firmly told himself.  _Be thankful to Bard._ He clutched the blanket Bard's daughter had given to him tight around his shoulders, wanting to finally be dry and warm.  Thorin, his nephews, Balin, and Dwalin huddled beneath a window, talking quietly, so Bilbo shuffled over to them.  He burrowed beneath Thorin's arm, humming in contentment as Thorin's body heat began to seep into him.

     "A dwarvish wind-lance," Thorin said, shock evident in his voice as he stared out the window.

     Glancing up, Bilbo noted, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

     "He has," Balin replied.  "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire.  It was the day the dragon came."

     As Balin told the story of Smaug's attack on Dale and Lord Girion's attempt to slay the dragon, Bilbo watched Thorin.  His chest tightened as his mate's stern features dropped in sorrow and his scent became bitter.

     Thorin looked down at Bilbo.  "Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different."

     "You speak as though you were there," Bard observed, coming to stand behind them.

     "All dwarves know the tale," Thorin responded.

     Bain, who looked to be growing into a tall and broad alpha like his father, moved beside his father.  "Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon," he told them fervently.  "He loosened a scale under the left wing.  One more shot and he would have killed the beast."

     Dwalin laughed derisively.  "That's a fairy story, lad.  Nothing more."

     Pulling away from Bilbo, Thorin strode up to Bard.  "You took our money.  Where are the weapons?"

     Bard, after staring at Thorin for a few moments, sighed.  "Wait here."  He left them, heading out of the rickety house with reluctant strides.

     "Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn," Thorin murmured, moving back to Bilbo and the others.

     "Durin's Day falls morn after next.  We must reach the mountain before then," Balin urged.

     "And if we do not?" Kíli asked.  His brown eyes were wide with worry.  "If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?"

     "Then this quest has been for nothing."  The desperation in Fíli's voice made Bilbo want to wrap his arms around him until his worries went away, but Bard's sudden return prevented Bilbo from doing so.  The unassuming alpha dumped the rather oddly shaped bundle in his arms onto his kitchen table, loosening its wrappings and revealing what even Bilbo could tell were rudimentary weapons.  The dwarves, who had gathered around the table, were unimpressed.

     "What is this?" Thorin asked disgustedly, holding up some hooked weapon.

     "Pike-hook," Bard explained, "made from an old harpoon."

     "And this?"

     "A crowbill, we call it, fashioned from a smithy's hammer.  It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none."

     Though Bilbo could see that Bard was only doing the best that he could without risking his family's safety, the dwarves were obviously not as sympathetic.

     "We paid you for weapons.  Iron-forged swords and axes!" Glóin exclaimed.

     "It's a joke!" Bofur said, throwing his weapon back on the table.  The rest of the Company followed suit.

     "You won't find better outside the city armory," Bard told them.  "All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key."

     Bilbo did not miss the considering look Thorin and Dwalin shared.  Neither did Balin.

     "Thorin," he murmured, drawing Thorin's gaze.  "Why not take what's been offered and go?  I've made do with less.  So have you.  I say we leave now."

      "You're not going anywhere," Bard interrupted.

     Dwalin's hackles had visibly risen.  "What did you say?" he growled, his scent thickening into something sharp and peppery.

     "There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in this town," Bard said.  "You must wait till nightfall."

     This seemed to settle the dwarves, but probably not for the reasons Bard might have thought.  If Bilbo knew his mate, and he felt pretty confident that he did, then Thorin was merely biding his time.  Bilbo just hoped that whatever plan Thorin had up his sleeve would not jeopardize their reunion with their fauntlings.  Otherwise, Bilbo might just have to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a question for all of you. I'm contemplating who I want to pair Thranduil with. I had originally thought I would put him with Elrond, but ever since leaving the movie theater for Battle of the Five Armies almost two years ago (has it really been that long?) I saw a lot of potential for Bard/Thranduil. So! I'll take suggestions from you. In a different fic that I will write much later in this series, who would you like to see with Thranduil? Elrond? Bard? Someone else? Let me know your thoughts!


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